50 Shades of Ray
by id-dentification
Summary: Luke finds out about a secret Rayna's been hiding from him; the breakup, and the memories brought about by the secret send her running to Deacon. Strong M content with BDSM themes. (FKA: Power Play)
1. Chapter 1

_This earns its 'M' rating, and also depicts/discusses a consensual BDSM type relationship, and graphic description of (somewhat mild) BDSM-type sex. Consider yourself forewarned, and please don't read if this isn't your cup o' tea._

* * *

"I can't believe people read that filth in public," Luke Wheeler said, staring straight ahead. He set his coffee cup down on the table in front of him.

Rayna Jaymes turned behind her to follow his gaze. She saw a woman in her late 30s with a macchiato, a croissant, and what appeared to be a well-worn copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_.

Rayna turned back to Luke, smiled and just shrugged before taking a sip of her iced coffee.

"Wait…" Luke said, eyeing her suspiciously, "Have _you_ read those books?"

She laughed, "I thumbed through them in the bookstore, but I haven't read all of them, no." She replied, pursing her lips.

"And?" He leaned across the table.

She brought her coffee to her lips, trying to hide behind it as she spoke, "And… I didn't really think it was very… it wasn't…" She waved her hand dismissively in front of her.

"Wasn't what?" He prompted.

"It wasn't very true to the spirit of BDSM." She was whispering, not sure this was a conversation fit for public consumption.

"Not true to the…" Luke stared at her. " _Spirit_ of BDSM?"

Rayna nodded, hoping the conversation would die there, knowing it wouldn't.

"What's the _spirit_ of BDSM, Rayna?" His voice held thinly veiled anger.

She sighed, setting her cup down in front of her, "It's a _conversation_. Above all else, it's consensual; an explicit agreement between two people who want to engage in power play dynamics. From what I read of that trilogy, it didn't seem like that was the case at all. In the end, the guy even gives it up because it's treated as some kind of pathology." She shrugged, "Some kind of sexual deviancy borne of trauma. It's not. At least, not all the time." She waved her hand, "And a lot of it was pretty vanilla, anyway."

Luke gaped at her, "Power play? _Vanilla_? Rayna, what in the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Nothing. _Fifty Shades of Grey_."

"And… how do you know all of this?"

She finished the last of her iced coffee, and stood to throw the cup away. "I read an article about it."

Luke eyed her suspiciously, "You… read an article? Really, Rayna?"

She'd always been a bad liar. She tossed her cup in the trashcan and turned to face him with her hands on her hips. "Look, can we not do this _here_?" She asked, looking around the coffee shop that was brimming with people. She had some idea of what was to come, and she'd rather random strangers _not_ witness it.

"Fine." Luke said, grabbing his cup and tossing it in the trash. "Let's go." He said, pushing the door of the coffee shop open.

When they entered her house, he turned on her, his voice so loud she was thankful Maddie and Daphne were at school.

"What the _hell_ do you know about BDSM, Rayna?"

Rayna dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, and turned to face him. "I told you. I read an article." She probably shouldn't have tried to lie again, but she couldn't help it.

Luke stepped closer to her, "Bullshit, Rayna." He pointed at her, "You've always been a terrible liar."

She sat down at a barstool, and looked at him. She'd imagined this would be a big deal, which is why she'd kept it under wraps, but she didn't realize it would be quite such a big deal. Her tone was resigned, "Fine. I may have…" She searched her mind for the right word, "Experimented in the past." She finished, watching him as he received this information.

"You…. Experimented?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

She really wished he'd stop repeating everything she said. "Yes." She said, "And can we please just leave it at that?" She knew her attempt was futile, but she felt compelled to try anyway.

"Uh, no, Rayna, we can't just _leave it at that_. You're my fiancée, and you didn't think it might be a good idea to tell me this?"

Rayna laughed, "When is a good time for _that_ conversation, Luke? It's not like we've spent a great deal of time talking about our sex lives prior to our relationship."

"You _experiment_ with Teddy, then?" He asked, and Rayna watched as he tried to wrap his head around that idea. She nearly laughed at the thought of trying something like that with Teddy. She'd never even told Teddy about any of this, the same way she'd intended not to tell Luke.

She shook her head, "No. Not Teddy."

Luke's gaze darkened, "Don't tell me, Rayna." He leaned on the bar of the kitchen, "Don't tell me you… _experimented_ in BDSM with… _Deacon_."

Rayna felt herself flush, kept her lips tightly pressed; at his look, she spoke, "Okay. I won't tell you." Rayna felt heat spread through her body at the memories that came: the first night they experimented in his hotel room, the second time they tried it in hers, a club in San Francisco once while they were on tour, an edgy moment while she was still married to Teddy. By the time she'd cycled through them rapid-fire, her face was hot to the touch, and she knew Luke could see the color.

Luke sat down on the barstool next to her, looking like someone had knocked the wind out of him, "You should have told me, Rayna."

Rayna laughed, "Given your massive sore spot when it comes to Deacon, how would you have liked me to tell you _that_? Really, I'd like to know, what would have been your preference for receiving that information?"

"When was the last time?" His voice was rough.

"Luke…" She warned.

"When was the last time? And what… _role_ did you play in all of this?" He didn't know much about BDSM, admittedly, but his ex-wife had loved those damn books, so he'd learned a bit here and there. Enough to ask questions he didn't want to know the answer to.

Rayna stood up, and walked to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water. "Luke, I'm not going to do this with you."

He fixed her with a hard gaze, and his words were pointed when he spoke, barely containing his rage, "When was the last time, Rayna?"

She slammed the refrigerator door. "Right before I got into the accident, okay?" She twisted the top off the bottle.

Luke shut his eyes, his voice low and dark, "And what _role_ did you play, Rayna?"

Rayna felt the rage surge through her body, and she slammed the bottle in her hand down on the kitchen counter. Water spilled out, and she shook her hand off, "I was _submissive_ to Deacon, okay. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make it better?" She asked, her eyes wild, "Or worse?"

Luke ran a hand over his face and groaned, "Christ, Rayna." Luke slammed his hand down on the counter, "You should have told me! I'm just now finding out that the woman I'm supposed to marry in a few months has… what? What do I even call them? _Domination_ fantasies?" He laughed, "What am I supposed to do? Just step into that role?"

She put her hand on her hip, the remnants of the water soaking into her jeans, "I don't have _fantasies_ about being dominated, okay?" She shook her head, "And I _never_ asked you to do that. I never even _told_ you about this."

"Wait… you _don't_ have fantasiesabout this? Then why did you…?" Suddenly, realization dawned. Rayna watched it hit Luke's face, and she braced herself. "You only have fantasies about being dominated by _Deacon_." Rayna cast her eyes downward, "Great." He said, shaking his head, and then laughing, "That's just great. Tell me, Rayna, do you _still_ have those fantasies about Deacon?"

She didn't bring her eyes up to meet his, which was all the answer he really needed. He didn't _need_ the stammering "I…I… no." That followed to get the truth.

He stood up with such force that the barstool crashed to the ground. Rayna jumped as it clattered against the floor. He turned and headed for the door, his footfalls on the tile heavy and filled with rage.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"I don't know." He said, "Anywhere but here," He turned to look at her over his shoulder, "I feel like I don't even know who you are, Rayna." He pulled the door open, "I can't marry someone I don't even _know_." He said, before he slammed it behind him.

She jumped at the noise, and then took in the silence of the room. She thought she should feel sad—she knew Luke wasn't coming back. He wasn't coming back today, he probably wasn't ever coming back. She should feel upset. She should cry.

But a few moments ago, she was deep down memory lane, and the only thing she felt was an incredible need building inside of her. The only thing she felt was _turned on_.

She tried to calm herself down, but the memories kept coming back to her: a phone call when she was on tour right after her divorce, the night before her first CMAs; she'd worked a long time to keep a lid on these memories, and now that they were out in the open again, she was reeling.

She had two choices: she could go upstairs and take a shower, try to think about _anything_ else. Or, she could get in her car.

She had her keys in her hand before she even fully formed the thought.

#

Standing on his porch, she knocked on his door, and when he swings it open, she can tell he's surprised to see her standing there. His eyebrows shot up, and his blue eyes widened slightly.

"Hey," She said, smiling, "Is Megan here? Are you alone?" She asked, peeking around him into the house, trying to get a view.

He nodded, "Scarlett's out, Megan's at work. With your ex-husband, I might add. I'm alone. What's up, Rayna?"

She smiled, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," He held the door open, closing it behind her as she came in.

She sat on his couch, and he stood for a second staring at her, before sitting in the chair across from the couch.

"I think Luke and I broke up." She said, folding her hands in her lap.

Deacon stared at her, "You _think_?"

Rayna laughed, "I'm pretty sure we did, yeah."

"I'm sorry," Deacon offered, in a way that made it clear that he wasn't, really. "What happened?" He asked, unsure what to actually ask in this situation.

"We just figured out we had irreconcilable differences _before_ the wedding, I suppose." She shrugged.

"Okay," He drew the word out, "What _really_ happened, Ray?"

"We had…" Rayna tilted her head, trying to find the right words, "A conversation… about BDSM." She watched his face as she spoke, and aside from flinching slightly, he gave nothing away, "And I guess he figured out that we just aren't compatible, he and I." She shrugged, "I guess I should feel sad, but I… _just don't_."

While she was speaking, Deacon's leg started bouncing, "What? He didn't want to… dominate you?" Deacon asked, his gaze darkening.

Rayna watched something pass over his face, something that looked suspiciously like a mixture of rage and jealousy.

She laughed, "I didn't ask him to." Her eyes fluttered to his leg, which stopped bouncing as she noticed it, "He just found out that I had… _experimented_." She considered her next words carefully, "Though I got the distinct impression that it was _who_ I experimented with that bothered him the most."

Deacon grunted slightly, "I'm sure he'll come around. Be begging to experiment with you."

Rayna narrowed her eyes as she thought, "Thing is… I'm not so sure I want him to come around." She shrugged, "And even if he did, I'm not interested in… that… with anyone else."

"You're not?" He asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.

She was surprised that he even asked her that. She'd always assumed it was a thing just between them. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her which sent a jolt of panic through her veins, "Do you play like that with Megan?" She asked, her voice soft. She hadn't planned on asking that question, but she blurted it out nonetheless, filled with a sudden need to know.

He chuckled, "Uh, no, Ray. You're the only one I ever done that with. You're the only one I was ever _interested_ in doing that with."

She smiled, pleased with his answer, "Why do you think that is?" She questioned, though she already knew the answer.

He sighed, and leaned forward, "Trust, I guess."

She nodded, "Trust," She repeated back to him. She folded her arms over her chest. "Do you still trust me, Deacon?" She hadn't asked him this since before the accident. So much had changed between them, and as much as she wanted to just give in to her desire and ignore the question, she had to know that it could still be the same for them.

Deacon tipped his chin down, shooting her a warning look, "What are you asking me, Rayna?"

A smile spread slowly across her face, "What do you _think_ I'm asking you?"

His gaze darkened, "I know what I think you're asking me. What are you asking me?"

She smiled, and rose off the couch. She made her way over to him, and planted her feet in front of the chair. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Rayna…" He warned, through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the way she was looking at him. He had a girlfriend; he kept reciting that little tidbit over and over in his head. He kept repeating it as though he didn't know he'd just been biding his time, waiting for Rayna. If he'd known what Megan was doing with Teddy, he wouldn't have even bothered to think of her at all.

She ran a finger over his collarbone, feeling him through his shirt. "I'm asking you…" She trailed off, her fingernail scratching lightly over the bare skin of his neck, "If you want to play…" She dug her nails into his skin, just a little. She leaned her head forward, until her mouth was right against his ear. She dropped her voice an octave, "Sir."

She watched his hands grip the arms of the char, saw his fingers dig into the fabric. Smiling, she put one knee on the side of him, and swung the other over, until she was straddling him.

Balancing herself on her knees, she ran her fingernails through his hair, and then bent her head to his neck. She ran her tongue lightly over the flesh there, before turning her attention to his ear. She bit it, breathing into it, as she dropped herself on his lap.

"I mean… I can _feel_ that you want to. But… do you want to?" She asked, her breath in his ear. Her hair fell down around his shoulders. She'd always known what her breath in his ear did to him, and she saw a shiver run through his body.

He grabbed her hair in his fist and pulled her back—it was rough, but not too rough. He had a wild look in his eyes when his gaze met hers. "Do you want to do this, Rayna?" He asked.

She let out a small laugh, "Yes." She said, staring at him.

Deacon tugged on the hair in his hand, pulling it. His voice was rough with desire when he spoke, "Yes, what?" He asked, his mouth slightly open.

Rayna smiled as she felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her body. She had always been incredibly turned on by how quickly he could shift into this role between them. After their first time, whenever she'd made it clear she wanted it, he would slide so easily into the role that it drove her crazy. It was such a shift in the usual power dynamics between them that it amazed her how well he took over; it amazed her how much she needed him to take over, sometimes.

Her voice was thick with desire for him. "Yes, sir." She amended.

He loosened his grasp on her hair, "That's better," He said, toying with the ends of her strands. "Now, stand up." He commanded.

She climbed off of him, planting her feet on the ground.

His eyes raked over her, "Take your shirt off." He said, his gaze returning to her face.

Her lip curled, as her fingers reached for the buttons on her shirt. She undid them one by one, looking into Deacon's eyes, realizing at once how much she'd missed seeing the hunger there. When it was unbuttoned, she let it fall to the floor.

"Bra, too." He commanded, staring at her exposed flesh, the expanse of her stomach. "I want to see your tits."

Rayna felt his words between her legs, and she nearly moaned. She'd always loved when he talked dirty to her, even before they started dabbling in power play. The dirtier the better, sometimes; it drove her wild.

She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, moving it down her body, dropping it with her shirt. Her nipples instantly puckered, and she watched Deacon's eyes drop to her chest. She saw his breathing hitch a little, and she was pleased; she'd always loved the way Deacon looked at her, like she was something he was about to feast on and she was happy to see that hadn't changed.

"Now the rest," He directed.

She smiled as she reached for the button on her jeans, as his gaze remained on her chest. She kicked her heels off, and then peeled her pants off, dropping them in a pile with her clothes.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.

"Go slow." Deacon's voice was stern as he dragged his eyes back up to her face. "I like to watch you." She nodded, enjoying how he qualified that—he didn't just like to watch. He liked to watch _her_.

She slowly slid her panties down, watching Deacon's eyes trace her movements. When they were halfway down her thighs, she dropped them, and stepped out of them.

"Good girl." He whispered, his eyes slowly raking over every inch of her naked body. She felt fully exposed as he sat there, fully clothed, his erection straining at his jeans. She felt exhilarated. Deacon smirked, "Touch yourself."

Rayna hesitated—no matter how much they'd done together, for how long, she'd always felt self-conscious doing that in front of him. "Where?" She asked, her voice soft.

"Don't play games with me," He dropped his gaze between her legs, "You _know_ where."

Rayna moved her right hand between her legs, feeling herself. She closed her eyes.

"No." Deacon said, "Eyes open. Look at me."

Rayna forced her eyes open, fixing her gaze on Deacon. She saw the desire in his eyes, and felt herself flush in both arousal and embarrassment.

Deacon shifted in his chair, "Are you wet?"

Rayna swiped a finger along her length. She was; she really, really was. She nodded, "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me."

"I'm so wet, sir." She said, her eyes closing halfway; they snapped open again when she remembered Deacon's directive.

"Good girl." He whispered, "Put two fingers inside."

She bit back a smile. He was really making her work for this today; she'd never been particularly fond of doing this to herself, even without an audience. Still, she obliged, sliding her fingers inside herself with ease. She worked them in and out a few times, before Deacon rose from the chair to stand in front of her. He tugged on the wrist of the hand that was between her legs, guiding her hand up to his mouth.

He held her fingers up, looking at the wetness that coated them, and then smirked at her. "You weren't lying about being wet." He took her two fingers in his mouth, and moaned around them; after he'd licked them clean, he released them. "God, I've missed the taste of your pussy." He whispered.

Rayna felt her face flush, and a deep throbbing began between her legs.

Deacon put a hand on her shoulder, "On your knees," He commanded, and she dropped to her knees in front of him. "Remind me what a good little cocksucker you are," He said, as though he could _ever_ possibly forget.

Rayna brought her hands to the button on his jeans, and then looked up at him. When he nodded, she unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped him, and worked them down over his hips. His arousal was evident by the bulge in his briefs. She pulled his briefs down, and his cock sprang free. She licked her lips, and placed her hand on his thighs.

Deacon tilted her face up to look at him, " _Don't_ make me come." He said roughly, "Understand?"

Rayna nodded, and leaned in, her tongue darting out to touch the tip of him. She closed her eyes, remembering his taste, and then she leaned forward to kiss the head of his cock.

"Eyes open." He said, "Look at me."

She snapped her eyes open, and leaned forward again, circling his cock with her tongue.

"Good girl," He said, grabbing a fistful of her hair.

She opened her mouth fully and took him in, working her way down his shaft, never breaking eye contact with him. He started to pump his hips into her mouth, and she moaned around him.

"Fuck," He said, "I forgot how much you like this." He thrust into her mouth, "You _do_ like this, don't you?"

She knew what he wanted. She spoke around his cock, "Yes, sir." She said, looking directly at him, and he let out a loud groan. It was the truth. She'd always loved using her mouth on Deacon. With anyone else, she could really take or leave it, but there was just something about _him_ that made her want to make him come with her mouth. She sucked him harder, bringing her hand to the base.

Obviously on to her game, Deacon pulled her hair back, and pulled himself out of her mouth. "What did I say about making me come?"

"Sorry, sir." She said, still on her knees, the pulsing between her legs growing stronger.

"Bedroom." He said, untangling his fingers from her hair.

She rose from her knees, and walked to his bedroom, feeling his eyes on her the entire way. When she got there, she touched her fingers to her lips. She could still taste him. She ran her tongue over her lips, and shuddered at the thought of her mouth on his cock.

When he came to the bedroom, he was nude, his arousal for her still completely evident.

"On the bed. Hands and knees." He said. "Ass in the air."

Rayna's eyes widened, and her stomach dropped a little. She hadn't been that exposed to a man in a very long time. He was fully intent on exercising the trust between them today, apparently.

Obediently, she crawled on to the bed, propping herself on all fours, burying her face into the bed. She felt the cool air on her hot flesh, and she swallowed hard, knowing she was truly exposed, feeling his hot gaze on her.

"Look at that." Deacon said, stepping closer to the bed, "I can see how wet you are." He reached a finger out, and ran it along her length. When he encountered her wetness, he made a faint hissing sound. Unexpectedly, he drove two fingers into her. Rayna cried out in shock, then in pleasure, as he worked them in and out of her. "Is this what you want, Rayna?" He asked, using her name for the first time since their scene began. He drove his fingers in again, harder. With his other hand, he reached around and pinched her nipple, hard. She cried out in pleasure-pain.

"No, sir. It's not what I want."

"No?" He asked, pumping his fingers in and out of her. "What do you want, then?"

"I want your cock," She said, her voice coated with desire, "I want you to fuck me."

"Is that right?" Deacon asked, stilling his fingers. "How do you want me to fuck you?"

She let out a low moan before she answered; "However you want to fuck me, sir." She said, pressing herself back into his hand.

Deacon thrust his fingers in and out again, "Damn right." He said, before pulling his fingers out. "Turn over," He said gruffly, "I want to see your face while I fuck you."

She rolled over onto her back, and Deacon brought his fingers to her center again, this time adding a third finger to the mix. Her eyes widened as he worked it into her, moving in and out slowly.

"Please, Deacon," She said, whispering his name.

"Please what?" He said, watching his fingers slide in and out of her. "I want to hear you beg."

"Please," She drew the word out, whimpering, "Please fuck me." She grew frustrated as he worked his fingers; she desperately needed to feel his cock between her legs. She suppressed a grin; she knew _exactly_ how to make him stop teasing her, "Please fuck me like the little slut that I am."

At her words, Deacon smirked, pulled his fingers out, and positioned himself at her entrance, his cock touching her folds.

"You're _my_ slut." He said, bringing his fingers to her mouth. His fingers were once again coated with her wetness; she tried to turn her head, but he clicked his tongue, "Taste yourself." He said, his fingers pressing against her lips. He eased them inside her mouth, rubbing them over her tongue. "That's it," He growled, when she looked directly at him and sucked. When his fingers were clean, he pulled them out of her mouth, "Now, tell me you're my slut."

"I'm your slut," She whispered, "Only _ever_ your slut."

As the word escaped her lips, he pushed his cock all the way into her, and Rayna gasped, then moaned. He began to pump in and out of her, slowly at first. "Touch your clit." He said, as he moved inside of her, "But you can't come until I give you permission, understand?"

She nodded, and reached a hand down in between them, feeling for her clit. She moaned again when she found it, as Deacon began to thrust harder and faster. Deacon watched her face, felt her tighten around him, and he tilted his head back.

Rayna worked her clit harder, and Deacon dropped his head to look at her; he could tell she was close, and he reached down and stilled her hand, "Not yet." He said, moving her hand away from herself. He reached out and grasped her breast, rubbing and squeezing, pinching her nipple as he thrust in and out of her. Rayna felt his movements becoming jerky and erratic, and she knew that he was close, too. The thought made her ache even more, and she tilted her hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

"Please let me come, Deacon," She whimpered, "Please let me come, _sir_." She said, bringing her hand to play with her other breast.

"That's it," Deacon grunted, "That's it." He pumped into her, hard and fast, "Do it." He said, fucking her faster, his own release imminent, "Come for me. Let me hear you come, slut."

At his words, Rayna felt herself contract around Deacon, and then the waves of pleasure rolled over her. "Fuck!" She shouted, "I'm coming," She stretched her hands out to clutch the sheets, as she felt her body shudder.

Deacon's hips jerked forward and he cried out, his voice hoarse as he spilled into her. He pumped into her a few more times, riding out his climax, then shuddered as he collapsed on top of her.

She brought her hands up to his back, and ran her fingernails up and down his back, enjoying his weight on her body. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and he placed an open mouthed kiss there.

"That was…" He whispered, his mouth still pressed against her skin.

"Hot." She finished.

Deacon nodded, "Yeah." And then they both chuckled, remembering the very first time they'd ever experimented like this. They'd come to the exact same conclusion back then, too.

Deacon pushed himself onto his elbows, and then rolled to the left of Rayna, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at her.

Her hair was slightly wet at the temple from her sweat, and he pushed her hair back out of her face. "You," He said, kissing her forehead, "Are something else."

She laughed deeply, "The same could be said for you." She said.

"You surprised the hell out of me." He whispered.

"Nothing about us surprises me anymore," She said, laughing.

"I suppose that's true," He said, leaning down to kiss her on the mouth. His tongue darted inside, and he moaned; she tasted of herself.

He pulled back and kissed her chin, then placed little kisses along her jawline, moving down her neck. He kissed her chest, and then each breast. Positioning himself so he could move lower, he kissed her stomach, her lower abdomen, each one of her thighs.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," He said, his voice gentle as his fingers traced circles on her outer thighs.

"Deacon," She whispered, reaching her hand down to stroke his hair, "You don't have to…"

He smiled, and pushed at her knees, "I know. But I _want_ to."

At his words, she let her legs fall open. He kissed each of her inner thighs, and then he looked at her core. "You're so beautiful, Rayna." He whispered, lowering his head.

She felt his tongue on her, and she gasped sharply, enjoying the flat of his tongue along her folds. She clutched the sheets when he moved to her clit. He sucked and kissed and licked her so gently, her orgasm building slowly with every move he made. She reached down and grabbed his hair, holding him to her, and he moaned against her. Suddenly, she felt her orgasm ripple through her, and he held his mouth down on her as she ground against her face. When she was done, he licked and kissed her a few more times, before he made his way back up to her, dropping kisses as he made his way to her mouth.

She kissed him, and then tucked her head into his chest. "Mm… thank you." She said, still reeling from the orgasm he'd just given her with his mouth.

He kissed her hair, and then combed his fingers through it gently.

"I love you, you know." He said quietly, "And not just for this."

She smiled against his chest, "I know. I love you, too. Always have, always will."

Suddenly, Deacon started laughing, his body shaking with it.

"What?" She asked, turning her head to look at him. Smiling because he was smiling.

"Did you _really_ lecture Luke Wheeler on BDSM?"

Rayna laughed harder, then, remembering the scene from earlier. She nodded, "I did. I extolled the virtues of BDSM for him, actually. Told him it was a _conversation_. There was talk about the _spirit_ of it all."

Deacon ran his hand down her arm, his body shaking with renewed laughter, "I would have loved to have seen his face."

"It _was_ pretty funny." She said. "So," She drummed her fingers on his chest, "What now?"

Deacon sighed, "Now… I go break up with my girlfriend." He laughed a little, "And then I come back and make sweet, sweet love to you." She giggled as he ran his hand down her back, "And then maybe tomorrow we break out some of those toys we bought in Miami that one time."

Rayna laughed, propping herself up to look at him, "You still have those?" She asked.

"Of course I do." He winked at her, "Always had to hold on to the fantasy that I'd have you here, like this again." Deacon slid out of bed and pulled his clothes on. "I'll make you a sandwich before I leave, you're going to need your strength."

Giggling, she stood up, reaching for a flannel shirt tucked into the chair in the corner, "Oh, is that right?" She slid her arms into it and began buttoning it.

Deacon nodded, grabbing her around the waist, pulling her to him. He kissed her tenderly on the lips, "That's right." He laughed, "Maybe later we can even have a repeat of Jacksonville," He kissed her again, and Rayna moaned, thinking about the first time she'd turned the tables on him and taken control. He pulled away, "In the _spirit_ of it all."

Rayna chuckled, "Shut up, and kiss me."

Deacon bent his head, "Yes, ma'am."

#

* * *

 _This is either done, or it isn't… depending on how well this one goes over._


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three weeks since she'd come to him reeling from her unexpected breakup with Luke, practically begging him to play with her.

They hadn't played like that since, but she'd been amazed at how seamlessly they'd slipped back into being together. It was like that one act of trust between them repaired something in their relationship somehow, something she hadn't even realized was broken.

Deacon had warned her the next day, however, that there would be a _consequence_ for the way she came to him, unbidden, and begged him— _after_ she had gone and chosen Luke in the first place. Rayna had rolled her eyes in the moment, but secretly she'd been yearning for it. _Consequences_ weren't things that came around very often in their experimentation—Rayna had always been a little bit scared of them, if she were honest. But the few times they _had_ come around, they'd always left her feeling satiated and _turned on_ in unexpected ways she never thought possible.

So, she'd been waiting for it, anticipating it, even though he'd only mentioned it the one time in passing.

She was sitting in the hair and makeup chair backstage in her dressing room at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone as her hair team finished up her look for the night. She heard a knock at the door and offered a brief "Come in."

Deacon popped his head in. "Hey," He said, looking at her and smiling.

She waved him in, and then stood up from the hair and makeup chair, "Can I have a few minutes, y'all?" Her hair and makeup team nodded, and left the room silently.

After they were gone, Deacon pressed the lock on the door behind them. Rayna walked over to him and slid her arms around his neck.

"Hey, babe," She leaned her head forward and kissed him. "You ready for tonight?" She asked. She'd finally gotten him back up on stage with her—he'd played as her band leader for three shows last week, and four this week, including tonight's sold out show.

He leaned down and kissed her neck, "I sure am." He pulled her to him, "But you're not." He let his hand trace the hem of her dress, "That's a nice dress, baby. Real short."

She pulled back from him and studied his face, noticing his mischievous grin. She glanced down and saw that he was holding a small black gift bag.

"What's that?" She questioned, looking between him and the bag.

Deacon held it up, "Oh, this?" Deacon chuckled, "Funny you should ask." He twirled the bag around a bit, "Do you remember a few weeks ago, when you came to my house… _begging_ to be fucked?"

Rayna flinched at his word, but felt it immediately between her legs. She nodded, "Yeah." Her mouth was suddenly so dry.

Deacon reached out and ran his hand along her collarbone, "I thought you might." He stared at her, "This," He held up the bag to her, "Is your _consequence_."

Taking it from him, she felt her stomach tighten. She opened it up and peered inside. She looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly.

"Take it out." He commanded, watching her carefully.

She reached into the bag, and took the 'gift' out. It was purple and egg shaped, with a piece that extended off the end, arching over the back of the egg. "What is this?"

Deacon clicked his tongue at her, "You know what that is, Rayna." He let his gaze travel up her lean legs, stopping to stare at the juncture of her thighs. He leaned down and put his mouth on her ear, "Put it in."

Rayna gasped lightly, "Deacon," She whispered, "I can't." She'd never been particularly fond of putting things inside herself.

Deacon spoke against her ear, "That wasn't a _request,_ Rayna." He pulled away from her, "But I've changed my mind." He took it from her hand, " _I_ want to put it in."

He ran his hand over the outside of her thigh, letting it trail to the inside, caressing the skin there. His hand crept up closer and closer to her center, teasing the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

His head was still bent at her ear, "Are you ready for me to put this inside of you, Rayna?" His voice was slightly ragged, "Or do you need more time?" He inched his hand further under her dress.

Rayna let out a breath of air, and closed her eyes.

"Let's find out," Deacon said, his fingertip edging along the line of her panties. He slipped a finger underneath the fabric, and ran it along her. He gasped in mock surprise, "Oh, Rayna, you act _so shy,_ " He slid a fingertip into her, "But you're so _wet_ already, thinking about sliding this into your pussy, aren't you?" He nodded his head to the egg she was holding.

Rayna nodded, "Yes," She hissed as his finger worked its way inside her, followed quickly by another.

He stilled, not moving his fingers, "Yes, what?"

She smiled, "Yes, sir."

Deacon worked his fingers deeper into her, "And why is that, Rayna? _Why_ are you so wet for me right now?"

With her eyes still closed, she moaned, knowing what he wanted to hear, loving to say it for him, "Because I'm your slut."

Deacon pumped his fingers in and out of her faster, "That's right, you are." He took the egg from her, and traced it up her thigh. Removing his fingers from her, he pulled her panties aside, "Open your eyes."

Rayna opened her eyes and looked at him, watching his eyes flicker over her face. His gaze was dark, and she saw the lust clouding it.

He placed the egg at her entrance. "Look how easily that slides _right in_ with how wet you are." He marveled as he slipped it all the way inside of her. Rayna inhaled sharply as she felt it fill her, not anticipating its circumference.

Deacon watched her face as she adjusted to the object inside of her. He moved the external piece to make sure it was positioned over her clit, put her panties back in place, and then ran his hand back down her thigh.

He leaned in to kiss her on the lips, slipping his tongue inside before pulling back and staring at her. "Tonight, you're going to come for me." He held up a small black object.

Rayna's brain tried to process the information, tried to discern what he was holding, but her brain wouldn't connect the dots through her lust.

Deacon leaned down and scraped his teeth over the outside of her ear, then slipped his tongue inside. Rayna felt like she might lose her balance, her knees suddenly unable to hold up her body. His breath was hot in her ear when he whispered, "In fact, you're going to come for me in front of 20,000 people tonight." He held up the black object which she now realized was a remote control, "At my will."

Her mouth fell open, and he chuckled as he watched the emotions pass over her face—shock, embarrassment, a touch of anger, and then the one he knew she would land on: _arousal_.

Deacon kissed her roughly, and then slipped the remote control into the pocket of his jeans. He stopped at the door, "I'll see you out there, baby."

Rayna stood in the middle of her dressing room, her knees shaky underneath her weight. When Deacon had mentioned a consequence, she hadn't thought it would be anything like this. She clenched around the vibrator sitting inside her, and she felt an immediate thrill. Giving Deacon full control over her by way of a remote-control vibrator was one thing, but to give it to him in front of 20,000 people was entirely another.

Rayna felt the coil in her stomach tighten, surprised at herself for being so turned on by the prospect.

A knock at her door startled her, "Time to walk, Ms. Jaymes," someone said on the other side of it.

Pulling herself together, willing her knees to work, she walked to the door and pulled it open. She glanced at people in the hallway, convinced they could see right through her, convinced they could tell how _wanton_ she was. She put her head down, walked to the side of the stage, and took the microphone. As the announcer introduced her, she was staring straight at Deacon who was looking directly back at her, playing his guitar, smirking.

 _Smug bastard_ , she thought, _and it's sexy as hell_. She said a silent thank you to her wardrobe team for choosing something with sequins and glitter; the last thing she needed was everyone in the American Airlines Center to see how hard her nipples were.

Taking her place on stage, she glanced back at Deacon, who was staring at the audience. She knew it was no use trying to figure out what his game was, but she couldn't help but try anyway.

"Hello, Dallas!" She said into the microphone, "How are y'all doing tonight?" She asked, and the screams roared back at her.

She'd gotten through four songs, and nothing had happened. Somehow, she felt _even more turned on_ by the anticipation of not knowing exactly when - or what - was going to happen.

Halfway through "It's My Life," she felt the vibrator come to life. She was walking across stage and stopped abruptly, but kept singing. She glanced at Deacon, but he was looking at his guitar.

He kept the vibrator at a steady pace for most of the song, ratcheting it up only when she wasn't singing so she could get accustomed to the faster speed. By the time the song ended, she was flushed. She used the loud instrumental ending of the song to let a small moan escape her, careful to hold the microphone away from her.

When the song was over, she looked at Deacon, who, she was pleased to notice, looked _just_ as turned on as she was.

 _Thank god for that guitar_ , she thought, dropping her eyes down to where his guitar covered his groin.

When "Already Gone" started up, she felt the vibrator kick into what she assumed was its highest gear. She inhaled sharply, and she would have laughed at his pun if she weren't so _horny_. She sang the first verse, and then felt the vibrator kick up another speed, and then start pulsing. She turned to look at Deacon, but he was playing without missing a note; she couldn't even _see_ the remote-control. The vibrator pulsed through the chorus, and then vibrated steadily through the second verse.

She knew Deacon was playing with her—he knew her body inside and out, could get her from zero to orgasm in three strokes, if he really wanted to. He always had been able to. She knew she would come exactly when he wanted her to, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was completely at his mercy, and in front of a sold out arena at that. The thought thrilled her beyond belief.

They'd had their exhibitionist moments to be sure, but _this_ was on another level. She glanced out at the crowd, and realized she couldn't do this looking at them. She turned instead to look at Deacon, watched him strumming his guitar. She still couldn't see the remote, but there was a guitar solo coming up.

He stepped forward, began to play, and she felt the vibrator within her alternating between the two highest speeds, with a bit of pulsating thrown in to the mix. She saw Deacon turn his head to look at her, away from the crowd so they couldn't see his face, and he mouthed one word. _Come_.

And she did. Right there in front of 20,000 people. Her eyes snapped closed and her legs wobbled a little, but she didn't care—most people were looking at Deacon, and the ones who were looking at her would never have guessed the truth: that Deacon Claybourne had just brought her to orgasm in the middle of a concert with a remote-control vibrator he'd placed inside her himself forty-five minutes prior.

When her eyes snapped open, Deacon was staring at her, still playing the guitar at the end of the solo which he'd stretched a little longer than usual, for obvious reasons. The vibrator speed was at low, providing a bit of post-orgasmic stimulation. She shuddered, and then gathered her wits—stepping next to him, she sang the last few lines of the song.

When it was over, she turned to look at him, and he smirked. She knew _exactly_ what he was thinking.

 _Already gone, indeed_.

Throughout the rest of the concert, he played with her—teasing her unexpectedly throughout the night, so that by the time the show was over, she was just as turned on as before it started.

As the last chords died down, she clenched her muscles around the vibrator, and nearly spoke through gritted teeth: "Thank you, Dallas, and goodnight!"

She turned to walk off stage, and Deacon followed behind her. He kept his guitar wrapped across him as they exited the stage, and Rayna knew exactly why. She led Deacon off stage by his hand, tossing him a look over her shoulder.

As they descended the stairs, Rayna raised her voice so she could be heard over the crowd, "No encore tonight," She told the sound guy.

Someone on staff came up and reached to take Deacon's guitar, but Deacon shook his head, "No, that's alright, I got it. Thanks."

They made their way through the hallways of people applauding, clapping them on the backs, and were almost to the dressing room before Bucky stopped them.

"That was…" Bucky said, drawing out the phrase, "Something else, you guys." He smiled at them, "Really, really great show." He said. "Electric."

Rayna smiled, "Thanks, Buck."

She felt the vibrator pick up speed and she turned to look at Deacon who just smiled.

"Yeah, thanks Buck." Deacon said, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his guitar across his body.

Bucky nodded, and headed down the hallway with a wave of his hand.

Rayna pushed the door to the dressing room open. When they were both inside, she slammed it and threw the lock.

" _Fuck_." She said, leaning her head back against the door.

Deacon took his guitar off, and her eyes immediately fell to the bulge in his jeans. She crossed the distance between them and threw her arms around him, crushing his mouth underneath hers. She hungrily slid her tongue into his mouth, kissing him roughly. He put his hand on her lower back and ground himself into her.

She could feel him against her abdomen, and she moaned into his mouth.

He pulled away and bit her lip, "God, I could still smell you on my fingers when I was playing tonight."

She ran her tongue across his bottom lip, "I can't believe we did that. I can't believe I…"

Deacon smirked, "It was the sexiest thing I've ever fucking seen." He kissed her hard, his hands burying themselves in her hair. He pulled on her hair slightly drawing her head back, and then he lowered his head to suck on her neck.

His mouth on her was going to leave a mark, but she didn't care.

Suddenly, she reached for his belt buckle, undid his belt, button, and fly, and slipped her hand inside. He shuddered at her touch, and jerked back with a slight hiss. She hooked her hands into his pants and pushed them down over his hips, gasping as his cock sprang free.

His jeans fell and he stepped out of them.

She looked at his cock, "That looks almost painful." She said, reaching out to touch him.

At her featherlight touch, he gritted his teeth. "I been rock hard for almost two hours, Rayna. _It is_." He reached out and grabbed her breast roughly through her dress.

She jumped at the sensation, not realizing just how on edge the rest of her pleasure points were.

She reached underneath her dress and slid her panties down her legs, letting them drop to the floor. She reached for the vibrator, still vibrating gently inside her—slipping it out of herself, she dropped it on top of her panties.

She looked at Deacon through hooded eyes, "No more games." She said, her voice rough with need. "I need you inside of me _right fucking now_."

At her words, Deacon grunted, and took her mouth with his. He backed her up against the full-length wall mirror in the dressing room, and she felt the hard glass against her head as he ran his tongue over hers. He hitched her dress up above her hips, and dropped a hand between her legs, feeling her.

"Fuck, Ray," He breathed, "I've never seen you so wet." He grabbed her legs underneath her knees, steadying her at the hips, and wrapped her long legs around his waist.

She locked her ankles behind his back and smirked at him, "That's because I've never _been_ so wet. _Fuck me_ ," She breathed, "Now."

Deacon groaned, and then buried himself in her, driving his cock in to the hilt in one swift motion. As she felt him enter her, thick and hard, she thought she might pass out from the overwhelming pleasure. She'd been waiting for this all night. He pulled out, and pushed into her with a shallow stroke, twisting his hips to settle even deeper before he drove in again.

Deacon watched as Rayna's face tightened, her eyes fluttering closed as her mouth opened to release a harsh moan at the feel of him inside her.

"Yes," She breathed.

He leaned forward and kissed her once before his movements took on a new urgency. He pressed her back against the wall, thrusting his hips fervently, burying his cock in her over and over again. Her cries grew more strained, and his voice joined hers as he moaned her name.

She ground against him, and immediately began to tremble, whispering "Fuck yes, Deacon, _take me_."

His body cried out for release, and on his next stroke it overtook him, an intense orgasm sending pulses of energy through him as he emptied himself into her. With three final desperate strokes, he felt her break—her muscles clenched and she let out a strangled cry, her head pressing back into the mirror as she came around him.

She was panting against him, and her face was flushed. Keeping himself inside of her, he walked them over to the counter, where he set her gently down, and then pulled out of her.

He leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips, "Well," He said, his voice still breathless from exertion, "At least 20,000 people didn't see _that_."

Rayna laughed, and Deacon chuckled, stepping into his jeans and buttoning them.

He leaned forward to kiss her, shrugging his shirt on, "You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen." He said, tugging the skirt of her dress back down around her hips. He reached down and grabbed her panties and the vibrator. He slipped the vibrator back into the little black bag he'd given it to her in, "And we're saving this for later use." He slipped her legs through the panties, and pulled them up over her hips, leaning in to kiss her. "I love you." He said, buttoning his shirt.

"And I love you." She leaned her head back against the wall. "Maybe I'll have to find ways to draw more _consequences_ in the future." She whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

His gaze flashed dark and then he leaned into her, his breath on her face, "Oh, please do, Rayna." He said, running his hand over her smooth calf, " _Please_ do."

* * *

 _Someone pointed out that I missed the opportunity to call this story 50 Shades of Ray. Sad about that._

 _There might be more to come including origins of Rayna & Deacon experimenting with light BDSM and that edgy moment with Teddy, and possible role reversal..._

 _In the words of Liam, "It depends."_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This is all your fault._

* * *

Rayna tested Deacon's grip on her wrists. Struggling beneath him on the bed, she tried to get away for only a moment before giving up. Deacon was strong. He dragged her hands above her head and pushed them into the mattress, holding her down. The heavy weight of his body on hers left Rayna unable to do anything except focus on the soft brush of his lips against her ear.

"Going somewhere, Rayna?"

Rayna swallowed, her eyes darting over his face, taking in his dark gaze. "No." She shook her head.

Deacon moved her wrists so he could hold them both in one hand, "That's right, you're not." He dropped his other hand to yank down her dress exposing her bare breasts. "You're mine. Aren't you?"

Rayna stared at him, "Yes." She breathed, "I'm yours."

Deacon smirked, "Spread your legs." Rayna gasped, and he grabbed her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "You like being told what to do, don't you?" He already knew she did, but he loved making her tell him how much she loved what they did together.

Rayna exhaled, "Yes." At Deacon's look, she amended, "Yes, sir."

"I said _open your legs_." Deacon commanded again.

She spread her legs, groaning when he forced his hips between her thighs. The hard length of his cock pressed up against her thin lace panties.

"Good girl." Deacon breathed, "Now, tell me what you want."

Rayna's face flushed, and Deacon grinned. She'd spent so many years _not_ saying these words, not talking dirty at all that it all felt strangely new again. The thought thrilled her.

"I want you to fuck me." She whispered, squirming beneath him. She whimpered when he ground his hips into her. "Please."

Deacon leaned into her ear, his breath hot on its shell, "Mm, I know you do. I can smell how much you love this, Rayna."

Rayna's face burned, and she shifted beneath him, the cool fabric of her panties brushing against her—Deacon was right, she was soaking wet.

"But, right now," Deacon whispered against her ear, "It's not really about what _you_ want." He tightened his grip on her wrists, and pulled away to look at her. His hand moved to her other breast, where he played with her already erect nipple. He moved his hips back so he was no longer pressed against her, and she gasped at the loss.

Rayna pulled back to look at him, and he saw the arousal flash in her eyes—it immediately reminded him of their first time experimenting like this.

#

They'd just finished up their final rehearsal for their two day stint in LA. Rayna was just on the cusp of _really_ making it back then, and her life was full of making decision after decision. She loved where she was at, of course, but the pace had been a bit overwhelming, even for her.

So, a stiff drink or three was definitely in order, which is how they found themselves downtown at a little hole in the wall bar, just after 10:30pm. The rest of the band had gone to a club somewhere, so it was just Rayna and Deacon sitting at the smoky bar, trading shots and barbs, just enjoying their night off. They'd been together for a little over three years, so everything felt really natural between them. Rayna was about one sheet to the wind, heading rapidly towards two and then three sheets—she was always a lightweight. Deacon, on the other hand, felt just fine.

He'd just ordered another round of shots for them when a woman walked into the bar. She was clad in tight leather, wearing what appeared to be a leather collar around her neck. The woman turned every head in the bar except Deacon's, his gaze was permanently fixed on Rayna—from the moment he met her, he'd only had eyes for Rayna.

As the bartender set the shots down in front of them, Deacon noticed Rayna staring, and turned to follow her gaze which was tracking the blonde woman as she walked through the bar—everyone gave her a wide berth as she made her way to an empty corner booth. She slid in, and her eyes searched the bar.

Rayna's mouth dropped open, clearly intrigued by the mysterious woman—even in LA with its short skirts and tight clothing, the woman looked positively risqué. Rayna grabbed the shot glasses, and stood up from the bar.

"I'm going to talk to her," She said, holding the glasses up.

"Ray, wait." Deacon stood up, reaching out to gently grab her arm.

Rayna turned her head back, smiling at him wickedly, "Are you coming or not?"

Deacon shook his head, let out an exasperated sigh, and grabbed his beer, following her over to the woman's table.

The thing about Rayna was that she could talk to anyone, literally anyone—about anything. She had always been able to do this; it was a special talent of hers. This was even truer when she was slightly drunk, as she was now. So, it was no surprise to Deacon when the woman everyone in the bar obviously wanted to steer clear of was the woman Rayna felt drawn to and fascinated by.

As they approached the table, Rayna leading the way, Deacon felt a bit nervous.

"Hi," Rayna said brightly the moment she stepped up to the table. She slid the shot glasses toward the blonde woman.

The woman eyed Rayna suspiciously, but Rayna just smiled. Deacon had always thought that Rayna's smile could disarm _anyone,_ and he noticed now that this assessment included women clad in skintight leather dresses accessorized with honest-to-god collars, apparently.

That's how Rayna and Deacon—mostly Rayna—ended up in an hour-long conversation about BDSM in a dive bar in LA.

The woman—Kirsten—had explained more than a boy from Natchez, Mississippi ever thought he would know about the kink world. Kirsten, apparently, was into the "hardcore stuff"—she was waiting for her partner, whom she called "master," to pick her up and take her to some sex club down the street.

Deacon knew a few guys who liked rough sex, so this idea wasn't exactly new to him, but he never really understood the depths it could go until Kirsten laid it all out for them. What was _truly_ a revelation to him was Rayna, who stared at Kirsten wide-eyed, and asked an abundance of questions.

"So, he… tells you what to do?" Rayna asked, her voice thick with alcohol.

Kirsten smiled, "There's a bit more to it than that, based on our personal preferences for the more hardcore stuff, but… that's some of it, yes. Dirty talk, a little humiliation through name calling, giving orders, t-shirt tying you to the headboard…" She smirked, "Rough sex. Those are good stepping off points." Kirsten looked at Rayna, took in her flushed face and slightly shallow breathing, "You should try it sometime." She nodded her head towards Deacon and winked at Rayna. "Just make sure you have a safe word." At Rayna's look of confusion, Kirsten explained, "A word that, if you say it, will make everything stop."

Rayna opened her mouth to speak, but Kirsten's gaze fell on the door. "I gotta go." A slow smile spread across her face, and Deacon and Rayna turned to see a man dressed in dark clothing leaning against the doorframe to the bar. Kirsten reached for a pen from her bag and slid a cocktail napkin across the table. Jotting her phone number on the napkin, she passed it to Rayna.

"You can call me if you ever want to… talk." Kirsten said, not taking her eyes from the man at the door.

When she was gone, Rayna took the napkin, folded it up, and slid it into her purse. Clearing her throat, she turned to look at Deacon. He could tell she wasn't drunk anymore.

"Do you want to go back to the room?" She asked, her voice husky.

"I…" Deacon stared at her, "Sure." He said, picking up his beer and tipping it back.

When they were back in the room, Rayna sat on the bed and seemed a bit on edge; she tapped her foot nervously against the hotel carpet, "That was… interesting."

Deacon looked at her, "Yeah…" He said, not sure where she was going with this conversation.

Rayna swallowed hard, looking down at the carpet and worrying her bottom lip, "Would you…" She cleared her throat, "Would you ever want to maybe try something like that?"

Deacon's eyes widened, "Like… what?" He asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"Like what Kirsten was talking about… I mean, like the lighter type stuff…" She kept her gaze on the carpet.

Deacon ran his hand through his hair, "I don't know, Ray… is that… would you want to…" He swore under his breath, "Is that something you would want to try?"

She looked at him then, her bottom lip still tucked beneath her top teeth, and Deacon noticed the vulnerability in her eyes. "I don't know…" She whispered quietly, "Maybe?" She admitted, staring at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Deacon swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He moved to sit down next to her on the bed, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him. He caressed her arm gently, his fingertips tracing over her freckles.

"I don't know if I could do that, Ray." He leaned his head against hers, "Tell you what to do… call you names?" He sighed, his breath moving her hair, "I just love you so damn much."

She nuzzled her head into him, "I know," She breathed out, "I love you, too. We don't have to… I just thought maybe…" She trailed off, shrugging lightly. "Can we think about it?" She asked him, her voice tentative.

Deacon pulled back from her and kissed her softly, "We sure can." He tucked her hair behind her ears, knowing he would consider _anything_ for her.

He pulled her down to the bed and kissed her, his hands exploring her body—he made love to her gently, so gently that she thought she might cry.

Five days later, they were in Austin, and Deacon had done little else _but_ consider it. He'd talked to Vince on the phone the night after he and Rayna had the discussion. Deacon had asked about it in an abstract way, knowing that his best friend had experimented a bit himself.

"Is this about Rayna?" Vince asked, his voice heavy down the line.

Deacon cleared his throat, "I didn't say that." He replied, his voice terse.

Vince chuckled, "You didn't have to, considering how torn up about it you are. With anyone else, man, you'd just do it." Vince let out a breath, and a low whistle, "Part of me doesn't want to think of Rayna that way, and the other part of me _definitely_ wants to think about Rayna that way, if you know what I mean..."

"Shut the hell up," Deacon raised his voice, but then he laughed. "Shit, she's real full of surprises."

Vince laughed, the noise in the background nearly drowning it out, "Look, man, I _know_ you love the hell out of her, and _she knows_ you love the hell out of her. Playing a little bit ain't gonna change any of that." Vince explained, "And it damn sure won't make you your old man." He finished, cutting right to the heart of the matter. Sometimes Deacon forgot how well Vince knew him.

But it was backstage in Austin that made up his mind—he watched Rayna, an array of people around her, asking her questions, searching her out for answers—he watched her make five decisions in three minutes, and the thought struck him that maybe she needed an escape from it. Maybe _that's_ why she was so drawn to this idea. He'd honestly always been fine with her calling the shots between them—he was too much in love with her _not_ to be fine with it. But, maybe she needed a bit of a change of pace. _Give her what she wants_ , Vince's words rang out to him, and he smiled.

He'd loved everything he'd ever done with Rayna, he didn't see why this would be any different. Besides, he figured, if it was, they didn't have to do it again.

She'd come to his room that night right after the after party, which he'd decided to skip. They were never really his favorite things, anyway.

When she'd kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed, he turned to look at her.

"So, I thought about… what we talked about the other night." His eyes skated over her face, watching her mouth form a little 'o.'

"You did?" She asked, quietly. "And…?"

He stepped forward, cupping her face with his right hand, "Baby, are you sure you want to do this?"

Rayna nodded, "I do." She whispered, "As long as… you're sure."

Deacon shook his head, "I ain't sure, but… I'm willing to try _anything_ for you, baby." Rayna smiled at him, "So, uh… where do we start?"

Rayna looked up at him through her lashes, "I've been thinking _a lot_ about that the last few days… I've kind of always wanted to be tied up." She blushed.

Deacon swallowed hard, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline. "Okay." He said, glancing at the headboard.

They worked out the logistics together, and soon enough they were making out, stripping each other of their clothes. When they were naked, Deacon took Rayna's hands and held them above her head. He looped his t-shirt around the slats in the headboard and around her wrists, pulling on the knot to make sure it was secure, but not too tight.

"That okay?" He asked her, his eyes drifting down her naked body.

Rayna pulled on the makeshift restraint and nodded, "More than okay," She whispered.

"You say Life That's Good and I stop, okay?" He said, leaning down to her mouth and kissing her.

Rayna laughed into his kiss, amused at his choice of a safe word—well, more like a safe phrase. "Okay." She nodded, and then watched him as he looked at her.

"God, Rayna, you look so sexy right now." Deacon was unsure where to start, but he felt like talking might be a good way of dipping his toes in the water, "All tied up for me." He reached down and cupped her between her legs, watching as she closed her eyes and pressed herself into his hand.

He watched her face as he moved his fingers against her, noticing how her breathing became shallow. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, swirling the dirty words around his tongue before breathing them into her ear. He felt her inhale sharply at them, and snap her eyes open. His hand worked at her, while his other trailed up her body to play with her breasts. He pulled away, "You want directives, don't you?" His voice had an edge to it, "You're such a good girl, and you just want to be told what to do, don't you?" He asked her, stilling his hands. "Spread your legs for me, Rayna."

He pulled back to look at her as her legs fell open.

"That's it." He moved his hand against her, dipping a finger inside as he watched her face.

Suddenly, he noticed tears in her eyes—he immediately stopped, pulling his hand away from her, crawling up the bed to her face.

"What is it, baby?" He put his thumb under her eyelid, catching a tear on his thumb, "I'm so sorry, we don't have to do this… I…" He reached up to his t-shirt to untie her.

Rayna spoke around the emotion in her throat, "No," She said, " _No_." She said, smiling through her tears. "It's not that." She laughed a little, "It's… _good_."

Deacon ran a hand through his hair, "Baby, I made you cry… I don't think that's _good_."

Rayna nodded her head, "But it _is_ , Deacon. I…" She trailed off, trying to find the right words, "I've never trusted _anyone_ like I trust you." She whispered, "It just… _hit me_ all at once, and I felt a bit overwhelmed by it, that's all."

"I trust you too, baby, more than anyone else in the world." He leaned down to kiss her, "So," His eyes darted up to where her hands were tied above her head, "This is okay? You… you like it?"

Rayna laughed, "Deacon," Her voice was low, "Couldn't you _feel_ how much I liked it?" She bit her lip, "And I especially liked it when you… _talked to me_."

Deacon grinned, "I have to say… I liked it too."

Rayna's eyes glanced between his legs, "Oh, I could tell."

Deacon laughed and brought his mouth down on hers, kissing her roughly before he brought his lips to her ear and whispered inside of it all the things he was going to do to her while she was tied to the bed at his mercy.

Rayna came harder than she had in her entire life that night, twice, and Deacon knew he'd never forget how aroused she looked even _after_ her orgasms.

#

After that first night, they'd gradually waded into the waters of experimentation, figuring out what they liked and didn't like. Deacon was happy to learn that she hadn't experimented with anyone else, happy to learn that she hadn't wanted to.

Rayna, he knew, still kept in contact with Kirsten, and now that he and Rayna were back together, Deacon occasionally thought of sending Kirsten a thank you card. All sex with Rayna was fantastic, but playing with her like this had led to some of his favorite memories.

Tightening his grip on her wrists, he looked down at her and smirked, "I'm not going to touch you tonight until _I_ decide you've earned it." Deacon said, fluttering his hands up and down her thighs, driving her crazy. He was touching her everywhere _except_ where she needed his fingers. "You can beg all you want—and you know how I love to hear you beg—but you're going to have to earn my fingers in your cunt tonight, understand?

Rayna felt an immediate heat between her legs, her sex pulsing as his words worked their way into her body. "Yes, sir." She whispered, her voice raspy with desire.

Deacon nodded, releasing her wrists and standing up in one swift movement. He pulled his shirt over his head, unzipped his jeans, and pulled down his boxers, his erection springing free.

"Get that thing off." Deacon said, pointing at her dress. "I want you naked. Now."

Obediently, she slid her dress down her body, and then kicked her panties off to the side, still sitting on the bed. Rayna didn't dare move until he instructed her; she'd made that mistake one time too many. Her chest rose and fell, her skin flushed.

Deacon slowly raked his gaze over her body, lingering on her breasts. Then, his eyes fell to her panting mouth. He licked his lips, "Get on your knees." His command was gruff, and she immediately dropped off the bed on to her knees, the carpet digging into her skin.

Deacon stepped in front of her, "Put your hands behind your back."

Rayna did as he said, bringing her hands behind her back and holding her left wrist with her right hand.

Deacon nodded, "Good girl." He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and tapped the tip against her lips, painting her mouth with his excitement. "Open." He commanded, his voice dark. When she did as she was told, he pushed his cock between her lips, sliding over her tongue until she could take no more. Deacon moaned at the feeling of her hot mouth around him, "You look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock."

She stared up at him, laving her tongue along his shaft as he pumped his hips into her mouth. He buried his hand in her hair, holding her to him, and then he guided her head back up and down, his pace increasing rapidly. As he moved her head, he never took his eyes from her face, from her mouth wrapped around him.

He pushed himself all the way in to her mouth and threw his head back, thrusting in and out a few more times before he looked down at her. He sneered a bit, "Did you let Luke fuck your mouth like this?"

Rayna made a sound around his cock—she'd thought he was over the whole Luke thing. Apparently, she was wrong. She looked at him and shook her head slightly.

Deacon smirked, "Answer me."

"No, sir." She spoke around his cock, and Deacon thrust himself in and out again.

"What about Teddy?" He asked, holding her head against him, filling her mouth.

"No, sir." She answered, the words muffled. Rayna would have laughed at his question if she could possibly form a coherent thought. The throbbing between her legs was excruciating, and she thought for a moment about dropping her hand to touch herself—enjoying the idea as soon as it came to her, she unlocked her hands, and brought one down.

Reading her intention, Deacon grabbed her roughly by the hair, "Don't even think about it." He smiled as she put her hands behind her back. He reached down and pinched her nipple, hard. "Your pussy gets attention when _I_ say it does, understand?" He let her hair go.

She bobbed her head, nodding in agreement. Her hand gripped her wrist behind her back with incredible force, her fingers digging into her skin to keep from touching herself.

Deacon pumped into her mouth roughly, three times, making eye contact with her when he asked, "How about Liam?" At her look, he smirked, "Oh, you let Liam fuck your mouth?" He pulled out and pushed roughly back in, and then out again, "But it wasn't _quite_ like this, was it?" He grabbed her hair, and pushed himself deeper into her mouth, thrusting his hips until he felt the back of her throat. "It didn't make you _throb_ between your legs, did it?"

Rayna shook her head, and slammed her eyes closed—the pulsating between her legs overwhelming her. What she'd allowed Liam to do had been _nothing_ like this. Not a _thing_ like _this_. She felt like if she even grazed her clit, she would come. She resisted the urge to lower herself to find something—anything—to touch her.

"Good." Deacon said, his movements growing less controlled, "And now, this mouth is only for _my_ cock, isn't that right?"

Rayna nodded, opening her mouth further, allowing him slightly more access.

"That's it." He said, his movements growing wild, his hand digging into her hair as he held her head in place. "Are you ready to taste me?" He asked her, but he didn't wait for her to answer; he just picked up the pace, thrusting faster and faster into her mouth until he finally threw his head back and let out a hoarse cry as he emptied himself into her throat. He thrust a few more times, and shuddered as Rayna sucked on him lightly, swirling her tongue around his sensitive tip.

He pulled out of her mouth, and smoothed his hand down her hair.

Rayna licked her lips, and then glanced up at him with hooded eyes, peering at him through her lashes. "Thank you, sir."

"Fuck." Deacon breathed out as he realized what she'd just said—as he realized what, exactly, she was thanking him for. "On the bed," He told her, reaching his hand down to help her up. She took his hand, and stood, staring at him. "Flat on your back." He answered her silent question.

Rayna climbed onto the bed, and pressed her back into the white comforter.

"Is your pussy aching?" He asked, dipping his head to her ear. His hand slid down her breast, tracing patterns over her stomach.

"Fuck, yes, it is." She gritted out, closing her eyes as his hand skated over the tops of her thighs.

"Do you want me to touch you?" His fingers traced patterns around her thighs, ghosting up the inside, tickling her flesh there.

Rayna nodded, trying to press herself into his hand. Deacon chuckled, and then reached a finger out, running it slowly up her length, brushing lightly over her clit.

Deacon nipped at her ear, "You're dripping wet, Rayna."

"Fuck." She breathed out, and then she moaned—loudly.

"Shhh…" Deacon whispered, dipping his finger into her, "Do you want the guests in the next room to hear how much you like being treated like a little slut?" Deacon pushed his finger inside of her while his thumb continued teasing her clit.

Rayna pressed her head into the pillow and moaned again, stretching her arm out and grabbing the sheets.

"Oh, you do want them to hear how much you being my little slut?" Deacon worked a second finger into her, "Then, by all means…" He worked a third finger in and she gasped, arching her back. He pumped his fingers in and out of her slowly, teasing her until she thought she couldn't take it anymore. She reached her hand out and dug her fingers into his shoulder, closing her eyes and clutching at him.

"Deacon…" She breathed out, "Please."

Deacon stilled his hand, and her eyes flew open.

"Beg me." He said, his voice rough. He chuckled as he felt her muscles tighten around his fingers, "Oh, you like begging for it as much as I like to _hear_ you beg for it, don't you?"

Rayna smirked, unable to deny it, knowing the proof was, quite literally, in Deacon's hand at the moment. "Please," She breathed out, "Please let me come, Deacon—please _make me come_."

"With what?" He asked, "What would you like me to make you come with?"

She ground down into his hand, "Fuck, I don't care, Deacon—what-whatever you want to use."

Deacon grinned and then leaned his head down and wrapped his mouth around her nipple, sucking hard. He moved his fingers slowly. When she began to pant, he picked up the pace, moving his fingers in and out of her rapidly, his thumb rubbing circles over her clit. He bit her nipple, and she arched her back on the bed, crying out. He moved his mouth up to her ear, knowing she was close.

"That's it, baby," He said, his fingers working, "Come for me—come around my fingers." He rasped, his breath ragged as his fingers stroked her. "Come for me. _Now_." He commanded, growling a little.

That did it. Suddenly, she was bucking against his hand and contracting around his fingers. She cried out his name—"Deacon!"—And then let out a sharp and guttural moan. "Fuck!" She cried out as the waves of pleasure rushed over her.

Deacon chuckled as he kissed his way down her body, settling his head between her thighs. He began lightly sucking her clit as she shuddered underneath him. She made a little noise in the back of her throat, and he sucked a little harder. She inhaled sharply, flying off the bed. Then she reached her hands down into his hair and pulled him away, laughing slightly.

He collapsed against her chest, placing light kisses on the side of her breast, his fingers caressing the soft skin of her stomach.

"Thank you?" He asked, his breath hot on the soft flesh of her breast.

Rayna chuckled, running her fingers through his hair. She shrugged, "Seemed fitting."

He lifted his head and kissed her gently on the lips, smiling against her mouth. "It was sexy as hell, Ray." He kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth—he could taste himself and he moaned, "Just like you."

Rayna laughed, "Just like _us_." She corrected, kissing him. "I missed this," She sighed, pressing her head into the pillow.

"The sex?" He asked, drawing a circle on her stomach.

"Mm, yeah." She said, her fingers toying with his chest, "The sex… but…" She tapped her fingers against his skin, "This." She smiled, "The quiet moments… after."

Deacon nodded, knowing what she meant. The quiet moments after, when they basked in the wonder of each other—in what they were able to share together.

"I missed this, too." He said, quietly. "I missed you, baby."

* * *

 _...TBC?_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: That's a big 10-4._

* * *

They were on a highway in the Midwest at 1:30 in the morning. The stretch of this highway was isolated this time of morning save for big rigs and one beat up pickup truck trying to make it back to Nashville before rehearsal began for tour. It was Rayna's first tour; her first record had just dropped and had hit the charts like a hammer, taking everyone by surprise with its success. Everyone except Deacon, that is.

She was in the passenger's seat next to him now, her slender short-clad legs propped up and her feet sticking out the window. They'd driven six hours for Deacon to perform at an open mic, solo. Rayna had sat at the bar and watched him with heady eyes, downing a few shots and swaying along to the music. After he'd finished his set to applause and screams from Midwestern girls in shorts and tight tank tops that exposed their bellies, Rayna had pressed her body against his, and slid her tongue into his mouth, kissing him so deeply that all those girls stared daggers at her. His reaction to her, the way he pulled her closely to him and slid his hands over her body, the way he didn't even _look_ at those girls made it abundantly clear that he was no one else's but hers.

They were on the highway now, the full moon guiding them back to Nashville. It poured into the car, reflecting off the dashboard providing ample light.

Rayna swung her legs back into the car and turned to look at Deacon.

"You were _so good_ tonight, babe." She said, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger and then letting it go, the wind picking it up and throwing it across her face.

Deacon turned to look at her, "Thanks, baby." He grinned, "You were pretty good tonight, too."

She looked at him in confusion, and then laughed. "Well, I didn't want those girls to get the wrong idea. You're mine." She said, smiling.

Deacon adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, "That is very true." He nodded; he wouldn't ever want to be anyone else's, anyway.

"Can't say I blame them, though, those girls." Her voice had a singsong quality about it that had Deacon raising his eyebrows as he glanced at her and then back at the road.

"No?" He asked, curious.

"Oh no." She shook her head dramatically, "You're _hot,_ babe." She let out a low, lazy whistle, "You're hot in general, but up there on that stage— _god_." She closed her eyes and pressed her head back against the headrest.

Deacon laughed, "I guess I know which one of you I'm gonna get tonight."

Rayna was tipsy. And whenever Rayna was tipsy she was either one of two things: asleep, or very, very horny.

Rayna laughed, and grinned at him, "Oh, babe, I don't know if you've even _met_ the me you're gonna get tonight."

Deacon saw her unbuckle her seatbelt and when he turned to look at her she had her fingers under the hem of her shirt. He looked between her and the road as she lifted it up and peeled it over her head, tossing it in the small backseat area of his truck.

He licked his lips, "Baby, what are you doin'?"

Rayna reached up behind herself and unclasped her bra, throwing it in the back with the shirt. Deacon turned to look at her and her bare breasts bathed in moonlight made him gasp.

"Shit, Ray." He said, swallowing hard. "You're so beautiful."

Rayna smiled and reached down to adjust the seat so it leaned back a bit, then she undid her jean shorts, tilted her hips up and shimmied them down over her hips, taking her panties along with her shorts. Deacon glanced over and ran a hand down his face after her turned back to the road.

"What in the hell are you doin'?" He asked again, his voice gruff with arousal.

He turned and looked at Rayna, his eyes skating over her body—the moonlight danced off of her milky skin, and he found himself immediately rock hard. He shifted in his seat and smiled as he turned back to the road—one look at Rayna, naked or clothed, was usually all it took for him to be straining against his jeans.

Rayna pressed her head into the headrest and closed her eyes, her hand skating down over her breasts. She teased her own nipples and let out a little gasp as she pulled and pinched them.

"Fuck," Deacon breathed out, trying to wrench his attention away from her and place it back on the road.

Rayna continued playing with her breasts, caressing them, letting out little moans as she found ways of touching herself that she enjoyed.

"Do you know what I was thinking about while you were up on that stage tonight?" She asked, her voice heady.

Deacon cleared his throat, focusing on the road, "What?"

Rayna smiled, "Mm, I was thinking about how _wet_ you make me." She slid her hand down her stomach, " _And you do_. I've been dripping wet since you were on stage." She sighed as her fingers skated around her core, teasing herself, "I was thinking about how good you feel sliding into me." Her voice dropped an octave, "That's what I was thinking about while you were up there—your big hard cock sliding into me over and over again until I come around it."

Deacon gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he saw her fingers toying with her opening before he dragged his eyes back to the road.

"Do you want me to touch myself, Deacon?" She asked, "Do you want me to slip my fingers inside myself right here in your front seat?"

"God, _yes_." Deacon said, gritting his teeth, "Touch yourself, Ray."

She didn't usually _like_ doing this sort of thing, but watching him up on that stage tonight had gotten her so turned on she couldn't stand it. She slid one finger into herself, tentatively, sliding it in and out. She gasped a little, and then added another finger, moving them rhythmically in and out, not anticipating just how good it would feel. She'd been throbbing since Deacon took his place on stage earlier in the evening. She let out a little moan as she worked faster, her thumb brushing over her own clit. She tipped her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

Deacon glanced over to watch her fingers moving in and out of herself, and though he didn't think it possible, his jeans got even tighter.

"Does it feel good?" His voice was gravelly, arousal coating every word, "Fucking yourself with your fingers?"

Rayna moaned, "Mm, it feels so good." She said, pumping her fingers in and out of herself, "But not as good as it feels when you fuck me." She opened her eyes and looked at him, watching his mouth open and his breathing quicken.

She loved what she could do to him, loved watching him react to her. Just then, she noticed they were coming up on the cab of a big rig. She knew she should stop, duck down and try to cover herself—she knew those drivers could see everything from their perches. But as she buried her fingers into herself, her thumb circling her clit, she didn't care. As they came up on the cab, she arched her back off the seat, moaning as she rubbed her clit with fervor.

"Are you gonna come for me, baby?" Deacon asked, "Are you gonna come around your fingers right here on my passenger's seat?" He reached his hand over and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it.

Rayna gasped, her breathing ragged. "Yeah, Deacon, I'm gonna come for you." She said, her fingers slamming in and out of her pussy. She felt her body stiffen, felt her muscles clench around her fingers, "I'm gonna… I'm coming… Fuck!" She yelled, as her orgasm rippled through her and she let out a cry, collapsing back down into the seat.

They were past the cab of the big rig now, but Rayna turned around to look out the window—she saw the driver's face, grinning. He was speaking into his CB radio. She smirked. _He was alerting drivers up ahead_.

"I think the driver saw me." Rayna whispered, her fingers still sliding lazily in and out of herself as she came down from the orgasm. She shuddered as a small aftershock ran through her.

Deacon's head whipped around to look at her, watching her fingers continue their work. He glanced in the rearview mirror and smirked.

"As long as he knows you're mine." He caressed her breast, feeling the weight of it in his hand before he brought his hand back to the steering wheel. "As long as he knows your gorgeous _tits_ are mine." He said, shaking his head.

Rayna smirked, "Oh, I think he knows."

Somewhere underneath the cloud of lust shrouding his brain, Deacon thought he should be pissed—he wasn't into other men looking at Rayna, though he knew they frequently did. But something about it felt _sexy_ to him, somehow. It felt naughty, a little exhibitionist.

Moaning at the loss, Rayna withdrew her fingers from herself. With a wicked grin, she reached her hand over and put her fingers against Deacon's lips. He opened his mouth immediately, drawing her fingers into his mouth, running his tongue around them. He groaned as his lips closed around her fingers, lightly sucking on them.

When they were clean, he released her fingers with an audible pop, "I love the way you taste." He smirked, "And your pussy's mine, too."

Rayna dropped her voice low, "And you _use it so well, too_." She whispered, enjoying the look of hunger that immediately settled over his face. He loved it when she talked dirty to him. She trailed her fingers down his chest, drawing them lower and lower until they touched him through his jeans. "I see you enjoyed that." She squeezed him through his jeans and he groaned, bucking a little into her hand.

She withdrew her hand, "Slide your seat back a bit." She whispered as she took a rubber band from around her wrist. She tied her hair up in a ponytail as Deacon moved his seat back.

She reached over and undid his jeans, slipping her hand inside his boxers. She gripped him, enjoying how hard he felt in her hand. She leaned over and pulled his jeans down, slipping him up and out of his boxers. She ran her hand up and down his length, watching his face as she moved her hand to circle the tip, spreading the wetness she found there around. She brought her hand back down to the base, and then up again. He was breathing hard, trying not to close his eyes, trying to concentrate on the road.

She leaned over the center console, adjusting herself on the seat so she could get into a good position. She lowered her head to his lap.

"What're you doing?" He asked, breathless.

She looked up at him and grinned, "I'm sucking your cock." She explained before she sank her mouth down onto him.

"Fuck." Deacon breathed, as her mouth enveloped him.

His hips bucked a little as her mouth slid over him. The softness of her tongue sliding over him sent a rush of blood to his already throbbing erection. She slid her head up and down, sucking gently on his tip as her tongue traced the line on the underside of his head.

Deacon gasped, sucking in air as he wound her hair around his hand, resting his hand gently on the back of her head as she bobbed up and down on him. He had one hand on her head, one hand on the steering wheel and for a moment he could scarcely believe this was his life: getting amazing head while he drove from the sexiest fucking woman he'd ever known. Not to mention the love of his fucking life.

She drew him further into her mouth until he felt himself bump the back of her throat. Her hand around his cock tightened, squeezing, and then her head came up, followed by her hand—over and over again she repeated the motion, taking him as deep in her mouth as she could, laving her tongue around him.

Deacon groaned, and then noticed an expanse of white passing by the passenger side window. "Baby," He pulled on her hair a bit, trying to lift her head up, "Baby, we're about to pass another big rig."

She resisted his pull and sucked on him harder, swirling her tongue around his head as her hand moved rapidly up and down his shaft. She took her mouth away for a moment, her breath hot on his cock as she spoke, "Let him see." She whispered before she lowered her head back down to him.

"Oh, _fuck_." He whispered, as her words hit his ears—as their meaning sunk in.

As they passed the big rig, Deacon didn't need to look over to see that he was being watched. He could feel it, the trucker's eyes on the scene happening in his pickup truck right now—Deacon smirked, and then guided Rayna's head with his hand, pulling her up and down on his cock. Giving just a little bit of a show.

As they passed the cab, Deacon felt his orgasm coming on, "Baby," He said, pulling her hair up to warn her, "I'm going to come."

Rayna moaned against his cock, and she quickened her pace, working her tongue over him as she slid her hand up and down his shaft rapidly.

Deacon felt his release ripple through his body, and he cursed under his breath over and over again. He focused on keeping his eyes open and on the road as he felt himself tumble over the edge. Rayna continued sucking him, moaning again as he came in her mouth, swallowing what he gave her.

When he was done, he felt Rayna sucking lightly on him and he shuddered, letting out a little laugh. She laughed around his cock and then pulled her mouth from him.

She tucked him back inside of his pants and then sat back in the passenger side. She licked her lips. "I love the way _you_ taste." She said, grinning, "And your cock is _mine_."

Deacon chuckled, "You are somethin' else, Ray."

She hummed, and put her head back against the headrest, her eyes fluttering closed. "That was fun." She said, smiling.

"And sexy as hell." Deacon said, bringing his seat back up to its regular position.

"That, too." Rayna agreed, sleepily.

Deacon glanced over at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest, her perfect breasts illuminated just enough by the moonlight streaming in to his truck. Satiated, she was asleep. He knew he should wake her up, but as he watched her sleeping peacefully, contentedly, he decided it could wait. Even with the moonlight casting its glow on the expanse of land, he knew he had the best fucking view in the world, right there on his passenger's seat.

They'd talk about it for years, what they did on the naked ride home.

* * *

 _There may be more..._


	5. Chapter 5

_The name of this story has changed because it's apparently going to continue, and the pun was just too good to pass up._

* * *

They fucked on a plane once. Not a private plane, and not in the lavatory. They were on an overnight flight to New York from Los Angeles, and there were surprisingly few people on the plane. They'd had a row to themselves, and when they looked around, they discovered that the back of the plane was empty save for a few sleeping passengers a few rows in front of them.

Rayna reached under the flimsy airline blanket across Deacon's lap and rubbed him through his jeans; three strokes was all it took for him to get hard. She grinned and nipped his ear.

"I love that my touch is all it takes." She squeezed him, breathing into his ear.

He grunted, "Baby, sometimes it don't even take _that_." He leaned his head over and nuzzled her neck, "I just _think_ of you and I get hard."

She trailed her fingernail over his length and then brought her other hand over to unbutton his jeans.

"What're you doin'?" He asked, his voice a rough whisper.

Rayna glanced around the cabin, and then leaned in to speak in his ear. "I want to fuck." She whispered, and when his mouth fell open she let out a throaty laugh. She lifted the armrests on either side of him up, "Do you want to?" She looked at him through her lashes.

"I…" He trailed off, shaking his head a little, but grinning like a fool. He tried to remember another woman ever making him speechless. No one ever had, and he knew no one ever would again. "Yeah." He said the word on a breath.

Rayna grinned, reached under her dress and slid her panties down. She shoved them in her purse, and then she reached under his blanket and unzipped his jeans. He lifted his hips and she pulled his jeans down over his hips, taking his boxers along with them, stopping when they were at his mid-thigh. She ran her hand along his length, enjoying the feel of his hardness under her palm. She circled the tip of his cock, swiping her thumb over the top, smiling at the moisture she found there.

Withdrawing her hand, she grabbed her own airplane blanket and straddled him, placing one knee on either side of his hips, her knees digging into the spaces between the seats. When she was in position, she wrapped the blanket around her waist. Then, she reached her hand down, grabbed his cock by the base, and sank herself down onto it in one swift motion.

"Fuck," His breath was hot against her neck as he gasped, stifling a moan, "You feel so fucking good, baby." He whispered, trying to keep his volume low.

Rayna squeezed her muscles around him and rocked her hips back and forth, "So do you," She breathed in his ear.

She braced herself on the seat cushions on either side of them, and lifted herself up and down slowly, using small movements. The slow pace was torturous and delicious and she shuddered as she sank down again, her head tipping back a bit.

With her head tilted back, Rayna chanced a glance around the cabin and saw a pair of flight attendants looking directly at them; she bit back a grin, dipping her head again and burying it into Deacon's neck, biting him there. He sucked in a breath and his hands flew up to her hips. Holding her still, he thrust upwards a few times and her breathing sped up. He guided her up and down on him, before she took control back and began sliding up and down on his cock slowly, her gaze locking with his.

There was _no way_ the flight attendants didn't know what they were doing, but she didn't care. She was so turned on by the thought of what they were doing, so turned on by the thought of _him_ inside of her at 36,000 feet that the only thing she felt was the intense need to come. With another bite to his neck, she ground down on him, her lips sucking the tender flesh of his neck as she pressed herself up and down on him, her pace becoming more and more fervent the closer she got to release.

When she started to move faster, Deacon put his mouth on her ear, "That's it, baby." He ran his hands over her calves, and when her breath was ragged, he let out a little moan with his mouth still pressed up against her ear. She worked herself faster, and he felt her muscles start to clench around him. "That's it," He whispered, "Get yourself off on my cock." He bit the lobe of her ear, breathing heavily inside of it.

She turned her head and whimpered into his ear, "I'm gonna come, babe." She moaned quietly and he felt her movements still as her muscles contracted around him. He groaned, and then she started moving again, rubbing herself against him so she could enjoy the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Deacon felt the tension building in him as Rayna shuddered around him, a small smile on her face as she shifted herself so her clit rubbed against him one final time.

When she finished, she bit his ear and spoke inside it, "I want you to come." Her voice was thick with pleasure and she smiled when she felt him move his hips, thrusting lightly inside her. He was nearly there already, feeling her heat around him, knowing she'd just come. But when she ran her tongue along his ear, clenched her muscles around him and then moaned, "Come inside me, Deacon," he lost it. He felt himself go over the edge as his fingers dug into her hips, holding her in place as he came with a ragged cry on his lips that Rayna silenced with a kiss, her tongue plunging into his mouth.

It was the first time he ever came inside her. She'd just started birth control, and afterwards, she remembered thinking _how hot it was_ to know that he was still inside her. She thought about that for the rest of the flight, the thought turning her on.

When his last shudder passed, he grinned and pressed a tender kiss to her lips, moaning a bit as he basked in his post-orgasm bliss. "Fuck, you're sexy." He whispered, and she grinned as she slipped him out of her, pulled her dress down, and placed herself back in her window seat, her knees a little wobbly. She left her panties in her purse, knowing it would drive Deacon crazy knowing she wasn't wearing anything under her short dress.

When she got up to use the lavatory a few minutes later, one flight attendant was staring daggers at her. As she came out, another flight attendant stopped her, dropping her voice conspiratorially low, "I wouldn't be able to help myself either, honey." The flight attendant said, winking at her.

Rayna just grinned and when she sat down she couldn't stop laughing.

"What?" Deacon asked.

Rayna shook her head, "Nothing." She smiled, "I just got the female equivalent of a high five from one of the flight attendants."

Deacon stuck his head up and looked around. His eyes fell on the one staring at him with a disapproving look, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

"Not that one." Rayna said, and then nodded her head in the direction of the other flight attendant. "That one." She said, pointing out the blonde with her hair in a chignon that couldn't stop smiling at Deacon.

Deacon sank back down in his seat and they leaned in to each other, laughing.

That was her favorite flight of all time. His, too.

#

They were on a plane now, not fucking. They'd just finished playing a show in San Diego with four days free before the next show in LA, and since the girls were on a school trip in Washington, D.C., they figured they'd take a short trip down to Cancun to spend a day or two on a resort. They hadn't been to Mexico together for years and thought a repeat of twenty some odd years ago might be in order. Well, sort of a repeat. They were sitting in first class this go round, and were actually staying on a resort instead of a tiny motel.

Rayna was smiling softly, her face a little flushed. Deacon leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder, "What?" He asked.

She turned to him, "I was just thinking about the first time you came inside me."

Deacon chuckled, his eyes flashing to the memory, "Right in the seat of a 747 somewhere over Wichita, if memory serves." He waggled his eyebrows, "Want a repeat of that, too?"

She laughed, "If this flight weren't so full, I might just take you up on that." She shifted in her seat, turned on by the memory.

Noticing her look, Deacon leaned in to her, placing his hand on her thigh, bringing his lips to her ear, "I knew I should have brought that damn egg with me." His hand crept up under her skirt, stopping at the juncture of her thighs. He brushed his fingers against her and chuckled when she shifted in her chair, letting out a little breath. He inhaled against her ear when he felt wetness there. "You're already wet." He said, pressing his fingers against her entrance and withdrawing his hand.

She crossed her legs, "I always am around you." She sighed, "I always have been. Even when…" She trailed off, not wanting to bring Teddy's name up. Or Liam's. Or Luke's.

Deacon smirked, leaning his back into the seat, "Oh, I know."

#

They hadn't really planned for the Spring Break crowd. But, it had been surprisingly fine. They stayed in the room or by the pool, tangled up in each other, mostly.

It was their last day, and they were lounging down by the pool as the stage designated for spring break festivities started showing signs of life. Soon enough, a crowd was formed in the pit. They'd seen a lot happen on that stage in their stay: concerts with shitty bands, a dance party where coeds just grinded to some imaginary rhythm, trying to pretend it wasn't all just some dance to go upstairs with a stranger, a hot dog eating contest where someone from Pi Beta Douche won.

They heard the emcee, a thirty something year old who was trying to act younger than he actually was, start trying to ramp up the crowd. "Spring break, 2014 – who's ready?" He yelled into the mic, "It's the moment you've all been waiting for, the quintessential spring break tradition, it's…" He drew the word out like there was a drumroll behind him, " _The Wet T-Shirt Contest!_ " The crowd gathering whooped in excitement, "We need all contestants to come over to the stage and grab your t-shirts."

Sitting behind her on the lounge chair, Deacon grabbed Rayna around the ribcage, his hands resting under the bottom of her bikini top. His fingers skated across the material, "You'd win _that,_ no contest."

Rayna turned to look at Deacon, her eyebrows raised. A slow smirk spread across her face.

Deacon eyed her, "You wouldn't." He shook his head, smirking back. He wasn't exactly daring her, but he was edging close to that line.

Rayna took it that way, anyway. She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes, the smirk still on her face. "Oh, I wouldn't?" She asked, a dangerous tone in her voice. She pushed herself off from the lounge chair, and walked to the stage, her hips swaying from side to side as she walked. She turned her head over her shoulder to see Deacon scrambling up from the lounge chair, following her. She felt him walk up behind her as she stepped to the side of the stage in front of the emcee.

If the emcee had any thoughts about Rayna entering the contest, he didn't show it. Except, Deacon noticed, to give her a once over, his eyes lingering on her chest after which he gave her a nod of approval.

Rayna slipped the white t-shirt over her bikini top, reached up and untied her bikini top at the neck, then reached behind her to untie it from around her back. She slipped it out of her shirt and tossed it at Deacon, it landed on his shoulder, the straps grazing him in the face.

"You really going to do this?" He asked, his jaw set—his voice was gruff and a bit angry, but she saw a flash of arousal in his eyes.

She grinned, walking up the stairs to the stage, "You know I'll do anything for a free t-shirt."

The emcee explained the rules – no cell phone videos, and whoever had the most cheers as the water settled would win. Rayna was last in line, and she watched as girls half her age stuck their chests out as water was dumped over the front of their shirts—their nipples peaked, and the crowd went wild. For a moment, she considered running down the steps and out of the contest, but then she saw Deacon. He was standing at the side of the stage at the bottom of the stairs, and he was staring straight at her, his eyes filled with one of the hottest combinations of lust, anger, and jealousy she'd ever seen. He didn't take his eyes off of her.

So when the emcee brought her bucket, she tipped her head back and let the cold water pour down her shirt. She didn't dance around like the other girls, she didn't swivel her body; instead, she just smoothed her hands down the front of her chest, making sure the water soaked in. Her hands skated idly back up over her breasts, and she felt her nipples pucker. Her eyes were on Deacon's, and he was staring straight at her chest. The crowd, full of mostly college-aged males roared, and she pushed her hair back from her face, running her fingers through it.

For the first time since the contest began, Deacon took his eyes off Rayna to glance at the crowd cheering for her tits. Deacon had, of course, been cheering for them since the moment he first saw them. Looking at them now, the white material taut across her chest, her nipples erect and visible through the thin white material, Deacon remembered very clearly why he'd never stopped cheering for them.

A college kid next to Deacon who'd clearly had too much beer leaned over to his college friend and yelled over the music, "Dude, that is a MILF if I ever fucking saw one." Deacon smirked, then looked down to see that the guy was half hard. Deacon shook his head, and then turned back to Rayna, the crowd still roaring behind him.

The emcee laughed, his eyes glued to the front of Rayna's shirt, "Looks like we have a winner." He said, and Rayna didn't even know what she'd won—she didn't have time to find out because before she knew it, Deacon had ascended the stage stairs and grabbed her by the hand, leading her through the pool area headed back up to their suite.

When they were in the empty elevator, Deacon backed her up against the wall, her wet t-shirt pressing into his bare chest. He kissed her roughly, and then dragged his lips to her ear.

"Did you like that?" He asked, his voice was thick with desire, "Did you like everyone looking at your tits?"

Rayna smirked, "Did you?" She asked him.

Instead of answering, Deacon roughly ground his hips into her, her bikini bottoms and his thin board shorts the only things separating them. She gasped at how hard he was.

"I'll take that as a yes." She said, a smile in her voice.

He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back so her throat was exposed to him. He sucked on her skin, "Take it however you want." He said, swiveling his hips into her again, his hardness pressing into her, "After that little show, I'm going to take _you_ however I want." He brought his hand up and grabbed her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple. He sucked a tender spot on her neck and then dipped his head to draw her nipple into his mouth through her wet t-shirt. Rayna moaned and leaned into his mouth, her hand flying up to the back of his head as the elevator dinged to indicate they were at their floor.

Deacon bit her nipple hard and she gasped, then he stood and grabbed her by the hand and led her to their room. Throwing the door open, he guided her inside. As it shut behind them, he turned to face her, his eyes slowly raking up and down her body, taking in her appearance. His eyes fell to her chest and he licked his lips.

"Take it off." His voice was pure sex. Rayna obeyed. Deacon reached out and untied the strings on both sides of her bikini bottoms, watching as the fabric fell to the floor. When she was naked in front of him, he smirked, "Get on the bed, flat on your back."

By the time Rayna was on the bed, Deacon had taken his swim shorts off and was standing before her, his erection throbbing. Rayna felt her breath catch, and as he came to join her on the bed, she reached her hand out to touch him. He caught her by the wrist, "Ah, ah." He rubbed his thumb over her pulse point, "I've got other plans."

Deacon leaned his head down and kissed her breasts, planting open-mouthed kisses on one as he worked the other with his hand. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, pinching it a little while he bit the other. Rayna writhed underneath him, her back arching, her head pressing into the white comforter, her breaths coming in and out of her body at a rapid pace. He leaned over to the end table and pulled something out of the drawer.

Rayna lifted her head up and looked at him, raising her eyebrows, "Lube?"

Deacon grinned at her, passing her the small bottle of watermelon-flavored lube he'd packed just in case. "Put it on." His eyes dropped to her chest.

Rayna's eyes widened a bit, and then she popped the cap and squeezed some of the liquid out onto her chest, gasping at the slightly cool temperature. She massaged it into her breasts, enjoying how easily her hands slid over her skin, slick with the lubricant.

Deacon reached out and palmed one of her breasts, "More." He commanded roughly. Rayna poured more onto her chest and then tossed the bottle on to the bed. "Mm, that's good," he threw a knee over her abdomen, so he was straddling her his palms on either side of her shoulders, "Push your tits together."

Knowing his intent, Rayna grabbed her breasts and pressed them together from the sides—Deacon thrust his hips forward, his cock sliding slowly between her breasts. He closed his eyes and moaned at how soft her flesh was, then snapped his eyes open, looking down at her, watching himself slide in and out.

Rayna's thumbs moved to play with her nipples, and Deacon smirked. "Your tits look so good wrapped around my cock." He thrust his hips forward, and then pulled them back again. "Look." He commanded, and she lifted her head up.

Rayna moaned and then she stuck her tongue out, meeting his tip with her velvety hot tongue as he thrust his hips over and over again. Deacon let out a sexy chuckle, pressing his hips forward so she could take his tip in her mouth. She sucked it lightly, swirling her tongue around the head.

Deacon pulled out of her mouth and slid himself back between her breasts, "All those college guys looking at your tits," Deacon said, punctuating it with a thrust, "They don't know what kind of slut you really are, do they?" Deacon reached down and pinched her nipples, his hips moving at a quicker pace, "These tits are _mine,_ aren't they, Rayna?" His hand moved to the back of her head as he stuck his tip back in her mouth. He moved his palms, shifting himself up to a different angle and plunged himself all the way into her mouth, "Aren't they?" He asked her again.

Rayna moaned, "Yes." She spoke around his cock, her hand reaching down to play with herself.

Deacon smirked down at her, pulling out of her mouth and pushing back in, "Don't talk with your mouth full." He pumped himself in and out of her mouth in three long strokes, and then shifted back down, stroking his cock a few times before placing it back between her breasts. He moved his hips in slow, long strokes, his breathing growing more and more ragged.

"I'm going to come, Rayna." He said, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, "I'm going to come all over your pretty tits." Deacon gave one final stroke and then groaned as he emptied himself on to her breasts. He slid himself out and rubbed the tip of his cock on her nipple, shuddering as the waves of pleasure continued to roll through him.

He slid off of her, watching as her fingers worked furiously on her clit as her other hand moved to her breasts, spreading his come around with her fingers. Then, she lifted her fingers to her mouth and sucked on them, her eyes locking with his.

"Fuck, Rayna." He rasped, and then leaned down to kiss her stomach, his eyes turning to watch her hand as she played with herself. He caught her wrist, stopping her ministrations, and kissed her navel. He continued lower, his tongue drawing a line down to her core.

He breathed her in, and then buried his face between her thighs, his tongue hungrily laving at her, pleased with the wetness he found there.

"Deacon," She breathed, her hand working its way into his hair, holding him against her.

He slipped his tongue into her, sliding it in and out a few times before he replaced it with two of his fingers, moving his tongue to begin working her clit. He pumped his fingers in and out of her, and then reached his other hand up to her breast—he pinched her nipple, smiling against her as she gasped. He ran two fingers along one of her breasts, gathering what was left of him there, then he reached his hand up, his fingers pressing against her soft lips. Rayna opened her mouth and closed her lips around his fingers, sucking on them as she made a little noise in the back of her throat at tasting him.

Deacon sucked her clit into his mouth; she moaned around his fingers, sucking them harder before he pulled them back out. Deacon traced his fingers to her other breast, gathering what was there and bringing his fingers back to her lips. He moaned against her when she sucked his fingers again; she wanted to taste every drop.

Deacon worked his fingers faster, his tongue swirling around her clit when he felt her pussy clench around his fingers, and he knew she was close. Knowing how to send her over the edge, he withdrew his fingers and ran them across her breasts one final time—as he pressed his fingers into her mouth, he spoke against her: "That's it, baby, I want you to taste me as you come."

"Fuck," Rayna swore under her breath as her mouth closed, her tongue swirling around his thick fingers as she cleaned them off. She whimpered and then let out a low moan as her orgasm rippled through her, her back arching off the bed as she grasped the sheets around her. "Deacon," She cried out, releasing his fingers from her mouth, collapsing her head back down onto the bed, panting.

He chuckled against her, his tongue still working her gently as he slipped his fingers out of her. He kissed her softly, and then trailed tender kisses back up her body. He ran his tongue along her lips and then kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He could taste himself on her tongue and he groaned. She hummed in the back of her throat, and he pulled back to look at her, his eyes moving over her face.

She started laughing, and he smiled, "What?" He asked.

"I won a wet t-shirt contest." Her eyes were sparkling, "Against 20-something coeds." She laughed, shaking her head.

Deacon smoothed her hair back, "I didn't see anyone else but you, baby. But I'm not surprised." He caressed the side of her breast, "You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He kissed her forehead, "You always have been."

Rayna brought her hand up to his face and ran it along his jawline, "I love you." She smiled, "I always have."

Deacon leaned down and kissed her tenderly, "I love you too, baby." His chest pressed against her breasts, and he slid forward. Looking down between them, he chuckled, "Shower?" Rayna nodded, and he slid off the bed, holding his hand out to help her up. He turned around and winked at her, "Bring that t-shirt."

* * *

 _About that edgy moment..._


	6. Chapter 6

_And now, the edgy moment..._

* * *

The minute the thick hotel door closed behind Rayna she leaned her back against it and shoved her hand up her dress. She'd been hot for hours, waiting until she was alone in her hotel room so she could find release. She rubbed herself through her lace panties, tipping her head back against the door as her fingers worked against her flesh. Her breath came faster as she thought about Deacon.

He'd looked so smug and sexy tonight during their show, his little groupie sitting in the front row watching him. He was watching Rayna, though, his eyes smoldering as he played next to her. He was all sex, he always had been, and it drove Rayna crazy. She'd been out of her mind, horny for weeks, and had started taking it out on anyone who was in the vicinity. She'd had a massive diva dip both before and after the show today, barking orders and snapping at roadies—so unlike her usual self, but she couldn't help it.

Deacon had just smirked at her during the show, watching her, his jeans hugging all the right places, his fingers moving up and down the neck of the guitar the way she wished they would move up and down on her. She missed those fingers and what they could do to her.

Deciding the friction from rubbing wasn't enough, she pushed the lace of her panties aside and plunged two fingers deep into herself. She cried out and moaned as her thumb ghosted over her clit. "Fuck," She breathed, working her fingers in and out of herself in long deep strokes, her head still tipped back against the door, her eyes shut. She gasped as her fingers moved faster, deeper, and she started to whimper.

"Hey, Ray." A gravelly voice said from the corner of the room.

Her fingers stopped moving immediately, and her eyes snapped open. She'd know that voice anywhere. She dropped her head down to survey the room, and saw a shadowy figure sitting in the grey reclining chair in the corner of the room.

Still panting, she withdrew her fingers from herself and took a small step forward into the light. "Deacon," Her voice was still raspy, "How in the hell did you get in here?"

Deacon chuckled and leaned forward, placing his elbow on his knee, "I have my ways."

Rayna rolled her eyes; he'd charmed the woman at the front desk, no doubt. He'd flirted with her and called her darlin', telling her there was just one little tiny favor he needed from her. It wasn't the first time he'd convinced some woman to let him into Rayna's room without permission, but it had been a very long time since he'd done it.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Okay. A better question would be _what_ in the hell are you doing in here?"

Deacon let out a sigh, "Well, I couldn't help but notice that you haven't been acting like yourself these last few weeks, Rayna, and it seemed particularly bad tonight, and so I wondered just what in the hell was wrong with you…" He looked her up and down, "I had my suspicions, of course." He laughed, "You've been _insufferable_ lately, which to the best of my recollection usually means only one thing." His eyes fixated on the juncture of her thighs, "Based on what I just witnessed, I guess I was right."

Rayna stepped further into the room, tugging her dress back down around her thighs. He knew her better than just about anyone on the planet, and even she could admit she turned into a downright _bitch_ when she was horny, so she wasn't surprised he'd figured it out.

Still, she lifted her chin in defiance and scoffed, "You have no idea what you're talking about." Rayna said, her voice mirroring the defiance in her voice.

Deacon stood from the chair in the corner of the room, and her eyes fell to his jeans where she could see his arousal straining against his zipper. He took three steps and was in front of her.

"Oh no?" He smirked, "So then you _didn't_ just have your fingers buried deep in your pussy?" He caught her by the wrist and drew her hand – the one that had been between her thighs only moments before - up to his nose. Inhaling sharply, he closed his eyes, and then he breathed out and opened his eyes, looking at her fingers. He made eye contact with her as he stuck his tongue out and ran it along the length of her still-wet finger and then back down again, "Oh, my eyes definitely _weren't_ deceiving me." He licked her second finger the same way, never taking his eyes from hers; he let out a sexy moan, as he sucked the tip in his mouth and then released it, "I'll never forget your taste, Rayna." He dropped her wrist and smirked at her again.

Rayna felt her knees wobble a bit as the blood rushed from her head. She didn't have to ask where it was going, because she felt the heat pool between her legs immediately.

She didn't trust her voice, but she spoke anyway, "I don't know what you think…" She started, but he interrupted her.

"What I _think_ is that you haven't been fucked well and good in over a damn decade. That's what _I_ think." When her mouth dropped open, he chuckled. They were inches apart, his breath hot on her face.

Rayna felt her resolve slipping away—she'd been horny for weeks, and she'd spent the last two nights on tour being endlessly turned on by Deacon, and now he was standing before her in her hotel room with a hard on. And he was right. She hadn't been fucked properly in over a decade, and they both knew it.

"Deacon," She breathed, "I need…"

"Oh, I know what you need." He shrugged, "You _need_ to be fucked, and fucked good. Too bad I can't give it to you, seeing as how you have another man's ring on your finger and all."

Any other time, that line would have snapped her back to reality, back to her marriage, but tonight she was throbbing between her legs, and the lust was clouding her brain so much she could scarcely see straight.

"Please…" Her voice was thick with desire, and she reached out to touch Deacon through his jeans, but he backed away.

Deacon clicked his tongue at her, "No touching." He had a wicked glint in his eye, "But I suppose you could… watch." He watched her eyes go wide, "Do you still like to watch, Rayna?"

She swallowed hard; closing her eyes a little, she nodded, "Yeah."

Deacon brought his finger to his chin, pretending to think, "But how can we keep you from touching?" He moved to a banquet chair in the opposite corner of the room and dragged it so it was in front of the corner chair he was sitting in when she'd first come in. "Take your dress off and sit down, Rayna." He ordered, his voice rough. He indicated the banquet chair.

She kicked off her heels and brought her hands to the zipper in the side of her dress. Drawing it down, she let it slide over her body and then she stepped out of it, leaving her clad only in black lace panties and a matching black lace bra.

Deacon dragged his eyes up and down her body and licked his lips, "Sit."

She sat down in the chair, and Deacon worked on his belt buckle, his gaze flicking over her body. When his buckle was undone, he slid his belt off.

"Hands behind your back." He commanded, moving behind her in the chair.

Rayna put her hands behind her back, and tilted her head back to look at him, curious. He grabbed her wrists a bit roughly and held them together while he tied the belt around them. When he was finished, the knot he'd tied was loose enough to not be painful, but tight enough that she couldn't get out of the restraint. He tugged on the belt one more time and nodded, satisfied.

"There we go." Deacon pulled his t-shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans, "I've left your legs free because I want you to be able to use that chair to your advantage," Deacon said, smirking at her. "You know I'd love to touch your pussy," Rayna hissed at the thought of his calloused fingers sliding across her flesh, "But… that would be against the rules, so you'll just have to figure something else out."

He kicked off his boots, unzipped his jeans, and slid them off. His cock tented his boxers, and he saw Rayna's eyes fall directly to his erection. He grabbed himself through his boxers, "Is this what you want to see?" He asked her.

She nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was too dry. She nodded again, and cleared her throat. "Yes." Her voice sounded harsh.

Deacon stared at her, and then pushed his boxers over his hips until they pooled on the floor and he stepped out of them. Rayna's eyes stayed directly on his erection, and he chuckled as she licked her lips. He grabbed himself, running his hand up and down his length as she watched. He sat down on the chair in the corner, leaning back a little, and stared at her, his eyes traveling up and down her body. He could see her hardened nipples through her bra, and his breath came shallow.

His hand slid up and down his cock, circling the head with his thumb and then dropping back down again. "I wish this was your hand, Rayna. Or better yet, your mouth." He gasped as he twisted his hand back up his length, "You always did know your way around my cock, didn't you?"

Rayna nodded; she'd always _loved_ her way around his cock. She could feel herself soaking through her panties, the cool fabric pressing into her, and she shifted herself, wrapping her feet around the legs of the chair to get a better angle. She pressed herself down into the rough material of the chair, swiveling her hips, enjoying the feeling the pressure gave her.

"That's it," Deacon said, watching her as his hand moved up and down his cock in slow strokes, "Work your pussy on that chair. Does it feel good?" He asked, his voice ragged.

"Mmhmm." Rayna nodded, her eyes glued to his crotch. She was surprised at how good it did feel, pressing herself against a damn chair—she was so incredibly turned on in general, let alone watching him touch himself, that she didn't care what she had to do to get off, she was going to do it.

When they were together, she'd had a _thing_ about watching him jack off. It was a thing she'd only ever had with him. She loved it, watching his hand glide up and down his length, his rough fingers working on himself. She especially loved it when he would _talk_ to her while he did it. She'd always loved dirty talk, and it turned her on so much to see him stroke himself _and_ listen to him talk— _that voice_. It did things to her. It always had.

Deacon knew this about her, and he loved to talk just as much as she loved to listen. "Remember that night in Denver?" He asked, bringing his hand up to his mouth and licking it for lubrication, "You were _so_ hot on stage that night. We'd been fighting all day… but that night… I fucked you so hard you had a hard time walking the next day."

Rayna flicked her eyes up to his and nodded; she definitely remembered.

He brought his hand back down to himself and slid it down to his base, inhaling sharply at the sensation, "How many different ways did I take you that night?"

Rayna's eyes dropped back down to his hand and she rocked herself back and forth on the chair and let out a little moan, her breathing rapid and shallow as she settled on the memory.

"I bet I know which way you're thinking of right now, don't I?" He asked, his voice a hot mixture of lust and cockiness.

An image flashed behind Rayna's eyes: her naked on all fours on the hotel bed, Deacon standing behind her equally naked, his hand pulling her head back roughly by her hair as he slammed into her over and over again… _hard_.

"Mmm," He moaned, his hand working faster up and down his shaft. "I always loved taking you like that, too. Fisting your hair in my hand, yanking your head back, and just pounding into you."

Rayna squirmed in the chair and whimpered, her arousal higher than she thought it ever had been. She struggled against the belt tying her wrists together, wanting desperately to break free and get her fingers on herself, _in_ herself. More than that, she wanted to feel _him_ inside her.

"God, Deacon," She breathed, "I wish…" She trailed off, and they both knew what she was wishing for: his cock deep inside her pussy.

Deacon grunted, his hand working faster, "Do you know what I wish?" He titled his head back a bit, "I wish you'd never married that trust fund asshole so you could be sitting on my face right now." He smirked at her as he swirled his hand around his tip, "Remember that, Rayna? How you used to sit on my face while I stroked myself." He groaned, his eyes slamming shut as he licked his lips, remembering, pleased to find that her taste was still in his mouth.

"God, yes," Rayna said, moving her hips around fervently, "I remember."

Deacon opened his eyes and moaned as he watched her moving against the chair, thinking of the way she'd sat on his face, balancing herself with her hands on the wall behind his head as he moved his hand up and down his cock. She'd ground down on his face like she was doing on that chair now, his nose pressed into her clit, breathing her in as he worked his tongue against her, slipped it inside her as she gasped. She'd reach down to grasp his balls, and he'd moan against her as she worked herself against his mouth.

Deacon's hand was moving faster now, his breath ragged as he panted, thinking of Rayna sitting on his face. "I loved using my tongue on you." Deacon sneered a bit, "Does he eat you out as good as I did, Rayna?" He stroked himself faster, "Does he make you come with his mouth like I did, hard with his name on your lips?"

Rayna's eyes snapped to his face, and he was staring straight at her, a knowing smirk on his face. She should avoid the question, she knew, but there was something about the way he said it, something about how turned on she was by it that made her want to answer. It was hot, the way he talked, and it was somehow hot to her that she could tell him the truth about his question.

She was moving faster against the chair now, she could feel her climax building inside her and it surprised her, "Fuck, no." She whispered, her eyes boring into his, "No one could ever eat me out like you." She smirked at him when his mouth dropped open, knowing he loved for her to talk dirty back to him, "I loved fucking your face, grinding myself against your lips as you drove your tongue into me over and over again." She pressed herself deliberately against the chair, "That's what I'm thinking about now."

"Shit, Rayna," He breathed out, his breath coming faster; he was close, he was so close; the sight of her sitting there in her bra and panties, grinding herself into a banquet chair she was pretending was his face, talking about the things he used to do to her pussy with his tongue had his hand twisting in exactly the way he liked, "Do you want me to come?" He asked her, his voice gravelly and rough.

Rayna moaned, the sound deep and loud as it echoed off the walls of the hotel room, "Yes." She said, rocking back and forth on the chair, her eyes watching his hand slide up and down his shaft, "I want to see you come." She flicked her eyes up to his, letting the full weight of her lust for him settle in her eyes, "Come for me, Deacon." She said, her voice full of sex as she dropped her eyes down to his cock again.

His breath caught at the way she was looking at him, and he felt his orgasm rising up as she stared hungrily at his cock, her lips slick from where she'd licked them. "Fuck," He cried out, and his hand slid to the top of his cock, working the tip until he felt his orgasm shoot through him and he cried out, her name bouncing off the walls as his hand slid up and down himself, riding his orgasm out. He shuddered as he opened his eyes to find Rayna's eyes on him, her skin flushed as she worked herself against the seat of the chair.

Deacon could see she was on edge, nearly ready to orgasm, and he knew just how to send her over. He lazily ran his hand up and down his shaft, shuddering a bit when he touched a sensitive spot, "I bet you wish you could clean this up for me, don't you, Rayna?" He saw her eyes go wide and her head tilt back a little; reading her reaction, he smirked, "Yeah, I thought so. What would you use to clean it up?" He rasped, and watched her swallow, "Tell me what you would use." He growled.

Rayna had found a rhythm in her rocking, and she moaned at his words, "My tongue." She answered, looking at him through hooded eyes as the image of herself crawling over to him and cleaning him up with her tongue flashed through her mind. She'd never wanted to be so dirty with anyone but him.

Deacon chuckled, the sexy sound hitting Rayna right between her legs. "That's right, you'd clean me up with your tongue, wouldn't you?" He shuddered once more as the last bit of his orgasm rippled through him, "You'd crawl right over here, stick that pretty pink tongue out and clean my cock off for me, wouldn't you?" He smirked, "You wouldn't miss a drop."

Rayna gasped, his words turning her on even more, "Fuck," She exhaled sharply, squirming in the chair. "No, I wouldn't miss a damn drop." She shut her eyes, pressing herself down into the chair, hard, bouncing over and over again, desperate for release, "Deacon, please." She pleaded, her eyes coming half open, looking at his cock covered in his release, "Just…" She gasped as she hit a particularly sweet spot as she ground down, "Just one taste."

Deacon inhaled sharply, and then grinned. "Just one taste." He said, "And then you come for me."

Rayna nodded, her breathing shallow.

Deacon ran his finger along his length, watching Rayna's eyes trail his finger as he gathered what she wanted to taste. She licked her lips. He stood up and walked over to her, stopping to stand in front of her. He held his finger in front of her lips, her eyes tracing its length, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she noticed how wet his finger was.

"Open your mouth." He commanded, knowing it was her favorite of his commands.

She did, and then she sucked his finger inside. As the taste of him hit her tongue, she breathed "Fuck," around his finger and sucked harder, not taking her eyes away from his stare, the taste of him swirling around her mouth.

As her tongue cleaned his finger off, he lowered his head. His voice was authoritative when he spoke, "Come."

She bit down on his finger, digging herself into the chair, and let out a hoarse cry as her orgasm ripped through her. She threw her head back and her body stilled as her toes curled. She cursed as she shuddered, squeezing her legs together and rocking into the chair as she rode out the wave. It was a shockingly powerful orgasm given the only physical stimuli was the seat of a banquet chair. But Deacon had stoked the orgasm with his words, with his taste.

When she opened her eyes, Deacon was staring at her face, a small smirk on his lips – he'd liked what he'd seen just then. She released his finger from her mouth and glanced down to see that he was hard again. Her head lolled back, resting against the back of the chair as she panted. Deacon leaned down and began untying the belt holding her wrists together. He placed an open mouthed kiss on her neck, and then released her hands.

Her hands flew immediately to herself and she pressed down on her clit, enjoying the sensation it sent through her body. A small moan escaped her, and when Deacon stepped in front of her, his eyes watching her hand move against herself, she saw him straining against the zipper of his jeans again. He threw his t-shirt on over his head, and looked at her with a gaze that was pure lust – and something else that, if she weren't scared to see, she would have recognized as love.

He leaned down and spoke into her ear, his voice ragged, "You're so fucking sexy." He breathed out, sending a shiver down her spine, "And mark my words. One taste tonight wasn't enough for me. I _will_ eat you out again someday." She gasped, and he chuckled as he pulled back from her and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, "Night, Ray." He pulled the door open, "Glad I could be of service."

The next day, there were no diva dips. And there was no groupie in the front row. And Deacon smirked at her through the entire show—and she? She smirked right back.

* * *

 _This is likely my last chapter for a while; interest seems to have waned a bit, which is totally fine, as this was my last fully-formed idea for this series. If any more ideas/interest pop(s) up, I'll probably be back._


	7. Chapter 7

_Y'all are dirty, and I love it_.

* * *

Deacon stood in the dark corner of the hotel bar watching as Rayna talked to an older gentleman with black hair, specks of grey dotting the hair at his temples. Deacon watched as the man's eyes flicked over Rayna's exposed cleavage before he dragged his eyes back up to Rayna's face. He said something to her, and Rayna laughed, throwing her head back and touching him on the arm. She leaned forward then and kissed him on the cheek. It was a friendly peck on her part, but Deacon watched as the guy leaned in to her with his hips.

As Rayna turned and walked away, her hips swaying as she did, Deacon's gaze was focused on the guy, whose gaze was trained on Rayna's tight ass. The guy watched until Rayna had left the bar, and then he stared at the empty doorway before shaking his head and turning back to the bar where he picked up his glass of scotch and downed the rest of it in one gulp.

Deacon watched him for a moment longer and then smirked, heading to the elevator bay. He felt the jealousy course through his veins and a massive shot of arousal followed. There was something about other men looking at Rayna lasciviously that turned him on—especially when he knew full well that she was _his_ , even if she flirted back as she very obviously had tonight.

Walking up to her suite, Deacon knocked languidly on her door, balancing himself with one hand against the doorjamb. When she opened it, he gave her a lazy grin, but his gaze was smoldering.

Rayna smiled when she saw him, "Hey, stranger." She said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him, "Hey, baby," He said, "How did pressing the flesh for Highway 65 go?" He asked, his voice falsely innocent.

Rayna immediately froze and pulled back from him, watching his face, "You were there." It wasn't a question. She narrowed her eyes at him and then stepped inside the room.

He followed her, closing the door behind him. She turned around and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him.

"He wanted you." Deacon's voice was ragged. "Not that I'm surprised. They _all_ want you. But he did, especially."

Rayna looked at him and her breathing came shallow when she saw the look in his eyes. She _had_ been flirting tonight, and especially with that programmer; the fact that Deacon had seen her doing it turned her on. He always got so possessive when she flirted, his jealousy taking over. She always pretended it annoyed her, but it secretly thrilled her. Secretly, she knew he got an erotic thrill out of watching other men respond to her.

"Deacon…" Her tone was warning, but she knew he wouldn't heed it; knew she didn't want him to.

His gaze flickered to her lips, "But _you're mine_ , aren't you, Rayna?" He asked, pulling her towards him a bit roughly. He leaned down so his breath fell on her lips, "I think maybe I need to remind you of that, though." He kissed her roughly, his tongue thrusting into her mouth before he pulled back; his hand tangling in her hair, he yanked her head back and she gasped, lust flooding her eyes, "You want me to remind you whose you are? Who you _belong to_?" He dropped his head and ran his tongue up the exposed column of her neck.

"Yes." She hissed, arousal dripping off her word.

He tightened his grip on her hair and let out a sexy chuckle against her lips, "I thought you might." He released her hair, "Get naked." He commanded.

Rayna felt a sharp pang of arousal between her legs and she quickly shed her clothes. When she was naked, he dragged his gaze up and down her body, nodding appreciatively.

"Bedroom." He ordered, pointing in the direction of the bedroom. He growled in the back of his throat as he watched her walk to the bedroom of the suite. That programmer certainly didn't get to see her like _this_ : Naked, turned the fuck on, and taking his commands. Only Deacon got to see her like this, and he fucking loved it.

When Deacon walked into the bedroom, Rayna was perched on the end of the bed, leaning up against it. She looked at him expectantly, wondering what he had in store for her. Deacon ran his eyes up and down her body again knowing he'd never get enough of looking at her, knowing he'd never see anything sexier than Rayna like this, ready and willing.

Deacon's eyes fell to the bed behind her, "What a coincidence," He stared at her, "A four poster bed." He remarked in a way that let her know this was, in fact, no coincidence.

Deacon walked over to his bag and withdrew six long silk ties from it. Watching him, Rayna's mouth fell slightly open as realization spread through her. _He was going to tie her up_. A shot of exhilaration ran through her body. She'd always particularly enjoyed when he tied her up, and he hadn't tied her up in over a decade. Her mind flashed back to a hotel room a few years ago, her hands behind her back as she desperately ground herself down into a chair for release. Okay, so he hadn't _fully_ tied her up in over a decade.

But he was going to fully tie her up tonight; he was going to make her nearly immobile. At the idea, she felt heat immediately between her legs. Sexually, she'd always been at his mercy, but damn it was hot when that fact manifested itself physically.

"Oh, you know what I'm going to do to you tonight, don't you?" His voice was playful, but it had an edge. He nodded, "Spread eagle on the bed."

Rayna climbed up on the bed, biting her lip as she watched him gather the ties. He grabbed her right wrist, looping the tie around her wrist and attaching it to the bedpost. He did the same with her left wrist, and then caressed his hand down her body to her left leg. Gingerly picking her foot up, he looped the tie around the post and around her ankle, tugging on it to make sure it was secure. He did the same to her right ankle, and then stood back to survey his handiwork.

Rayna lifted her head to look at him as his gaze ran up and down her tied up limbs, skated over her breasts, and fell on her center.

"Look at you," He breathed, not taking his eyes from her pussy, "All tied up for me." His gaze was dark as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. He moved to the side of the bed, "All tied up for me to…" He dropped his mouth to her ear, " _Use_."

Heat spread through Rayna's body, "Fuck," she whispered, her head falling back down on the pillow.

Deacon chuckled and then brought a silk tie up to her eyes; her breath hitched in her throat as he lifted her head up and tied it around the back of her head. Rayna felt herself flush with arousal and squirmed a bit against her restraints, desperate for him to touch her.

Suddenly, she heard the soft click of the bedroom door—"Deacon?" She called out, but he did not answer. She stilled herself and listened for him, but she couldn't hear anything. She tugged on her restraints a bit, enjoying the feeling of being tied up; her stomach flipped a little as she wondered what, precisely, he was up to. "Deacon?" She called again, but still nothing.

Eventually, she heard the door open again, "Where the hell have you been?" She asked, propping her head up off the pillow. "What were you doing?"

Deacon smiled, "Stop asking questions, Rayna, or I'll have to gag you." He walked to the side of the bed, "Actually, I may want to do that anyway." He reached out and ran his hand down the side of her neck, his fingers lightly tracing over the flesh there. He got to the base of her throat and tightened his grip just a little, "Can you think of anything I could _gag you_ with?"

When Rayna inhaled sharply and arched her back off the bed, he traced the back of his fingers down through the valley between her breasts.

"Your cock?" She said, her voice husky with arousal.

"So eager." Deacon chuckled, running his finger over her soft, pink lips, "Maybe later." He brought the last silk tie up to her mouth, "We'll use this for now." He brushed it against her lips, "Open."

Rayna dropped her mouth open and Deacon slipped the silk tie inside her mouth, wrapping it around the back of her head and tying it. He watched as the dark silk became wet, her tongue working itself around the fabric.

"There." He whispered, as he finished off the tie, "Now you're bound _and_ gagged for me."

Rayna whimpered, the sound distorted and slightly muffled by the silk in her mouth.

Deacon stood back to look at her—she was tied to the bed, her legs wide open, silk ties around her eyes and her mouth. He'd never seen her _quite_ like this before, and he felt his cock twitch as he looked at her. He'd been hard since he saw her in the bar, if he was honest, but seeing like this certainly made the blood flow faster.

"You like to flirt, don't you, Rayna?" He asked, his voice rough and dark, "You like to see how men look at your body, don't you? Like to make them _want you_?" When she nodded, knowing the game he was playing, he chuckled, "Yeah, I thought so. But by the look of things here, it seems like you're very much mine, aren't you?"

Rayna nodded, "Yes," She said, the word muffled by the gag in her mouth.

"Oh, I know you are…" Deacon moved his mouth to her ear, "Slut."

Rayna moaned, arching her back off the bed, her breathing heavy. She loved it when he called her names when they were playing like this. Her body was on fire; she'd been aching for him to touch her since she saw him at the door.

Reading her intent, Deacon kept his mouth on her ear, "You want me to touch you?" He asked, his fingers hovering above her breasts. At her nod, Deacon ran his fingers along her breasts, scraping his fingernails along her flesh. He watched as her nipples hardened, watched as she sucked in breath. He leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as she pressed herself further into his mouth. He scraped her nipple with his teeth and she gasped again, a little moan piercing the air through her gag.

Deacon trailed his hand down between her legs and ran a finger along her length, grinning at the moisture he found there. He dipped his finger inside of her, swirling it around. When Rayna moaned, he inserted a second finger, pumping it in and out of her. "You're so wet, Rayna," He slid his fingers in all the way, then repeated the process slowly, eliciting a heady moan, "Such a beautiful sight. You all tied up, and so wet for me, my fingers buried deep inside of you." Deacon watched his fingers sliding in and out of her, and groaned. "Having you gagged is nice, but I think I can think of better things for you to do with that pretty little mouth of yours."

With his fingers still inside of her, he used his free hand to untie the gag and tossed it to the side. He withdrew his fingers from her brought them to her mouth. He wiped his fingers across her lips and then forced his fingers inside her warm mouth. She tried to turn her head, but he stopped her with a hand on her throat.

"No." He said, holding her jaw in place, sliding his fingers over her tongue, "Suck." When she obeyed, Deacon smiled, "That's it. That's good stuff."

He removed his fingers from her mouth and Rayna heard rustling followed by a noise she could not quite place.

Without warning, a sensation of pleasure-pain rippled through her, emanating from her left breast, concentrated on her nipple. She let out a little shriek as something either very hot or very cold slid itself across her breasts.

Watching her reaction, Deacon continued his ministrations, leaning his head down to ask, "Is it hot or cold?"

Rayna concentrated on the sensation, felt the way it spread heat through her stomach, but she couldn't place it without being able to see what was happening, "I… I don't know."

Deacon chuckled, trailing the object down her abdomen, "And you don't need to know. The only thing you need to know," He said as he placed the object at her entrance, "Is that you're mine."

He eased it into her and Rayna moaned, sudden pleasure rippling through her. "Deacon," She breathed, as he moved it in and out of her. She gasped as he increased the speed, "What _is_ that?" She asked, the sensation making her feel on edge.

"Do you want to see?" Deacon asked, sliding it all the way out, "Do you want to see what I'm doing to you?" He pushed it back in and pulled it back out.

"Yes," Rayna hissed, twisting her hips as much as she could, tugging on her restraints to try to get a better angle.

"Then guess. Is this hot or cold?" He thrust it all the way in, watching as Rayna's mouth parted, her head falling back. "If you get it right, I'll take your blindfold off so you can watch me." He said, pulling it almost all the way out, then sliding it slowly, god, so slowly, all the way back in again and again. "And if you get it wrong, there will be a consequence."

Rayna bit her lip, trying to focus on the sensation as he slid it in and out of her; her nerves were standing at attention. "Cold?" She said, holding her breath

Deacon stopped, then pushed it all the way in, "Good guess, Rayna," Leaving it inside of her, he moved to the side of the bed and took her blindfold off. Rayna's head shot off the pillow and she looked between her legs as Deacon repositioned himself at the foot of the bed. She noticed that he'd taken his clothes off and she stared at him, noticing how hard he was. "This," He said, sliding it out so she could see, "Is a glass dildo which spent a few minutes in a bucket of ice before spending time in your warm pussy." He pushed it all the way in and Rayna cried out.

"God, Deacon," She said.

He slid it out of her and she whimpered at the loss. Deacon smirked, "Oh, don't worry baby," He said as he dropped the dildo to the floor. "I'll make it up to you." He positioned his head between her thighs, looking up at her. "Watch me." He said, lowering his head to her—he took a long lick, his tongue running up her length, and her head snapped up. He smirked against her as he made eye contact with her, "Watch me eat you out."

Rayna whimpered, her gaze locked on his as he stuck his tongue out lapping at her before he dipped his tongue inside. He placed his hand on her stomach and then moved his tongue to her clit, sliding two fingers inside of her. She moaned as he sucked on her, keeping her still with the hand on her stomach so she couldn't pull or twist away from him. She had a tendency to pull away, to ease off the sensations of pleasure so she didn't completely lose control.

"You're gonna come for me, baby," Deacon said, his fingers working in and out of her, "And you're gonna come _hard_." He said, his eyes locking with hers. He chuckled against her when her eyes went wide, knowing exactly what he meant.

He'd known her body since she was sixteen, he knew his way in and around it, and his tongue moved in quick circles as his fingers pumped in and out of her. Her breathing came quicker and Deacon knew that she was close. He pressed his palm down into her stomach again, holding her down on the bed so she could not pull away from his mouth. He sucked on her, hard, his fingers curling up into her until she cried out.

"Deacon!" She said, her voice a near yell.

He didn't back off, his tongue worked on her faster as he watched her face before he closed his mouth around her bundle of nerves and sucked on it, his tongue flicking over it—he watched her face contort in ecstasy, and she threw her head back letting out a guttural cry, followed by every curse word known to man and a few he was pretty sure she'd just made up. When her head slammed back down into the pillow, he let up on the pressure, his fingers lazily sliding in and out of her as he kissed her, tasting her. When she finally came back down, her head lolled to the side and he chuckled against her, the vibrations sending small sensations of pleasure through her.

"Shit," She said, and then she hummed in the back of her throat, her eyes fluttering open, "Deacon, that was…" She trailed off, unable to fathom or form words for what that was.

He gave her one final lick, giving a little murmur of appreciation as he tasted her on his tongue before he stood up.

Even in her post-orgasmic haze, Rayna's eyes fell to his erection. "Deacon," She said, licking her lips, "I want to…" She trailed off, looking slightly shy.

Deacon smirked, "Use your words, Rayna."

"I want to suck you," She said finally, her voice dark. The shyness nowhere to be found.

"God, Rayna," Deacon breathed out, "I'd forgotten how cock hungry you are." He shook his head. He hadn't forgotten, really, just pushed it out of his mind because he was convinced he'd never have her like this again. His eyes took her in: strapped to the bed, her skin flushed from orgasm, looking hungrily at his cock. He'd never known a sexier woman. "Alright," Deacon said, kneeling on the bed; he pressed his cock against her lips, but pulled back when she opened her mouth to take him in. She pouted, "Don't make me come," He instructed, "I want to fuck you tonight until I feel your sweet little pussy clenching around my cock." He pushed himself forward again.

Greedily, Rayna opened her mouth, taking him in as far as she could. She swirled her tongue around him, moaning when he pulled himself out and pushed back in. Deacon dropped his hand to her hair, twirling a strand around his finger as he moved slowly in and out of her mouth. She sucked him, moving her head as much as she could, her eyes sliding closed. Deacon stilled himself, watching as she moved her mouth on his cock; she made little sounds in the back of her throat and Deacon smirked. She was very, very clearly enjoying herself. Deacon felt his balls tighten and he reached his hand down, stilling her head.

"Fuck," He whispered, as her tongue continued to swirl around him. He was tempted to just pound into her mouth until he came down her throat, but instead he reluctantly pulled out, "It's so hot how much you love my cock in your mouth."

Rayna nodded, "I do."

Deacon grinned, moving off the bed until he was by her legs, "Oh, I know." He reached his hand out and untied her left leg, then her right leg so she could move them. He'd never really enjoyed having her completely immobile while he fucked her.

He positioned himself between her legs, rubbing himself against her entrance—she was ready for him. He took one look at her, her arms tied to the bed, her breasts exposed, lust in her eyes, "You ready for me, baby?" He asked. When she nodded, he pushed inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.

Rayna cursed under her breath as he stretched her open, "Yes, Deacon," She breathed as he moved slowly inside of her.

He gave her a moment to adjust to him, and then he started slamming in and out of her—hard. He grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, tilting her hips up so he could get a deeper angle. When she gasped, he moved faster, pounding into her, "Tell me who owns this fucking pussy," He breathed, his hands reaching down to pinch her nipples. "Tell me," He said, punctuating the words with hard, deep thrusts.

"You," She said, "My pussy is _yours_."

"That's right," Deacon reached his hand between them and his fingers began working her clit as he thrust into her, "This pussy is _mine,_ Rayna, and don't you ever forget it." He stroked into her, and she rocked her hips forward meeting his frantic rhythm with equal fervor, " _No one_ can make you come like I can."

He thrust into her, his fingers working her, and suddenly she felt the stirrings of another orgasm. Deacon felt her begin to quiver and he slowed his thrusts, going slow and deep as his fingers played with her. He watched as her face changed and she began to contract around him, her head flipping from side to side as she cried out in pleasure.

"That's it, baby," He said, pulling himself all the way out and pushing himself slowly back in, "Come all over my cock," He pulled all the way out and then pounded into her hard; her ebbing orgasm picked back up again, his fingers brushing over her furiously. She convulsed around him, milking him as he slammed into her desperately searching for his own release.

"Yes," Rayna panted, her breath heavy, pleasure still rolling through her, "Come for me." She met his thrust, "Come inside me, Deacon," She said, clenching her muscles around him, her eyes trained on his face.

He buried himself in her once more and then cried out as he exploded inside of her, his voice ragged as it echoed off the walls. His orgasm rippled through him and he shuddered, thrusting a few more times before he collapsed on her chest, his head nestled between her breasts.

When his breathing had returned to normal, he pressed a soft kiss to her breast and then pulled out of her. He slid himself off the bed and leaned down to place a kiss on her right ankle, then her left ankle. He moved to the head of the bed and untied her right wrist, pressing a tender kiss to her wrist bone. He moved to the other side and released her left wrist, kissing it before he slid into bed next to her.

She rolled her head to the side to look at him and he leaned forward to touch his lips to hers, kissing her softly as he brought his hand up to caress her hair.

"Baby," He said, his fingers skating down over her collarbone, "You are somethin' else."

She sighed against his mouth, and then slipped her tongue inside, kissing him; when she pulled back, she was smiling, "The same could be said about you."

He stared at her, "Thank god you're mine again."

Rayna brought her hand to his face; her fingernails traced the stubble there, "Babe," She whispered, her eyes suddenly serious, "I was never _not_ yours."

Deacon smiled, "Funny," He said, "The same could be said about me."

* * *

 _To be...?_


	8. Chapter 8

Rayna couldn't believe she was doing this. Every cell in her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending on the brink of explosion. Even in her wildest fantasies she hadn't imagined _this_. Once, maybe, but only in the abstract. Even then, she didn't think it would feel as good as it did. She didn't think she would be on the edge of what seemed destined to be one of the most powerful orgasms of her life.

Rayna wasn't sure how it had started, but an after party and some whisky shots on her part later, she found herself the center of attention, kissing one man on the mouth, her tongue delving into his mouth as he groaned against her while the other man kissed her neck, suckling at the tender flesh behind her ear as four hands wandered all over her body, her breasts enjoying the attention as rough calloused hands pulled and pinched her flesh in a way that had her writhing with ecstasy. It was amazing how much more incredible four hands on her felt than two.

Before she knew it, she was so crazy with desire that her shirt had slid over her head, her bra had been snapped off, and Liam was working her jeans and panties over her hips where she kicked them off with a moan as Deacon's tongue explored her mouth, leaving no corner untouched. God, how she'd missed his taste. Deacon trailed kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and over the top of her breasts. He put his mouth on her and Rayna arched her back, gripping his hair tightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her nipple.

Liam nudged Rayna's knees apart and slid off the couch, positioning himself between her legs. His finger traced her opening and Rayna shuddered as Liam leaned his head forward, inhaling deeply as he breathed her in. Rayna could feel Liam's breath on her, and her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation as she waited to feel his tongue on her. She was seconds away from grabbing Liam's head and holding him to her as she felt him lean forward at a painfully slow pace.

"No." Deacon spoke around Rayna's nipple, his voice cutting right through Rayna's lust. Still, she couldn't quite figure out what Deacon meant, and her eyes snapped open, her brow furrowing in confusion as she looked at Deacon's serious face.

Liam froze, seemingly understanding what Deacon meant. The corner of his lip ticked upwards, a smile, and then a brief nod of his head. He was acquiescing control, something Rayna suspected Liam didn't do very often.

"Come on, man," Liam groaned, his gaze focusing back between Rayna's legs, "Just one lick."

Deacon nipped at Rayna's nipple, then soothed it with his tongue. He narrowed his eyes at Liam, considering him for a moment before he nodded once.

Liam smirked, then stuck his tongue out and gave Rayna a long, slow lick along her length, moaning against her as he barely resisted the urge to bury his face in her. Reluctantly, Liam pulled away from her, shaking his head.

"Damn," Liam whispered, sliding two fingers into her and pumping them three times. He looked at Deacon and narrowed his eyes a bit, "I can see why you want it all to yourself." He withdrew his fingers from her and stood up, sucking his fingers greedily into his own mouth as he sat back on the couch next to her.

Deacon chuckled, released Rayna's nipple with a pop, and then slid down her body until he was positioned between her legs. "I sure do," He smirked, looking at Rayna, "That's because you," Deacon said, eyeing Rayna as he swiped his finger along her opening, "Are delicious," Deacon finished, swirling his tongue around his finger before lowering his head. He laved her up and down, focusing on her clit, little sounds of pleasure escaping her throat as he worked her with his mouth. Deacon groaned, the pleasure rocketing through him as he tasted Rayna on his tongue. He brought her close to orgasm with his tongue, knowing the exact strokes to get her there, pleased to find they were still the same. But he backed off at the last moment, a wicked grin on his face as she looked at him, her eyes wild.

Liam leaned in close to Rayna, "Taste yourself, babe," he whispered as he leaned forward and kissed her, his tongue gliding over her tongue.

"Mm," She moaned, "I'd rather taste you."

"Fuck," Liam said on a breath. He reached down to undo his pants and his cock sprang out. He adjusted himself so Rayna could do just that.

Rayna leaned forward and ran her tongue along his length, smiling when she heard his sharp intake of breath. She closed her mouth over his head just as Deacon stood and positioned himself between her legs, flipping her over in the process. Liam slid back so he was up against the couch, and Rayna balanced herself on her forearms. She released Liam from her mouth for a second and turned over her shoulder to look at Deacon; she'd always had a thing about watching his face the moment he slipped into her.

Deacon stared at her, his gaze heavy with fire, the desire coursing thick through his blood. Suddenly, without breaking eye contact, he slid into her in one hard thrust, groaning as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Fuck, baby," Deacon said, his head lolling back as his eyes slipped closed, "You feel _so_ good." He thrust into her, moving harder and quicker with each thrust.

Satisfied with the obvious pleasure she'd seen on his face, Rayna turned her head and slipped her mouth back over Liam.

In her absolute wildest dreams, Rayna couldn't have imagined it. But there she was, bent over on all fours, a cock in her mouth while another one slammed into her from behind. She looked up at Liam who was sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. His hair fell across his forehead and Rayna couldn't help but think how sexy he looked as he smirked down at her. He reached a hand down and held her head down on him, drawing her mouth deeper over his length. She swirled her tongue around his shaft and moaned, enjoying the silky hard feel of him in her mouth. At the vibration, Liam groaned, tossing his head back.

"Fuck," he whispered, easing himself further into her mouth, wanting to see just how much of him she could take, feeling his balls tighten when he realized she could take it all. She stared at him, little sounds of pleasure emanating from the back of her throat as it closed around him. Liam looked at Deacon and shook his head, "You weren't lying man, she gives _amazing_ head."

Rayna thought in the back of her head that she should be offended knowing that they had discussed her like that—that they'd talked about the things her mouth could do. But, instead, she felt Liam's words right between her legs as she moaned again, clenching around the cock slamming in and out of her pussy roughly. The first time back with Deacon was always frantic, always hard, and always the best sex of her life.

Deacon chuckled, thrusting himself deeper inside of her, "Told you," She clenched around him again and he reached over Rayna and palmed her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, "And," Deacon said, punctuating his word with a shallow thrust followed by a deep one, "It seems she really enjoys being _told_ just how good she is at it."

Liam pushed into Rayna's mouth and held himself there, "Is that right, Rayna?" Liam asked, "You like hearing what a good cocksucker you are?"

Rayna nodded, and shifted herself back against Deacon, trying to get him deeper. Taking the hint, he pressed her lower back down and took her deeper, enjoying the feel of her against him.

Liam moved in and out of her mouth before pulling out and tapping himself lightly against her lips before sliding all the way in again, "Your mouth is the best I've ever had, babe."

Rayna felt herself clench again as she sucked Liam, her tongue laving along the underside of Liam's cock—she'd been shocked at how big he was, though she really shouldn't have been. Liam's swagger belied a big cock, and he was the second biggest she'd ever seen.

Of course, the biggest she'd ever seen was also currently inside her, stretching her out and filling her up in the same way that had always driven her crazy.

When Deacon took her virginity when she was seventeen, Rayna remembered thinking that Deacon's thickness would never fit entirely inside her. When it did, it had hurt, but in a delicious way she could never describe but which she would, it turned out, never stop craving.

When she confessed her fears to Tandy, her big sister had assured her that the full to the brim feeling wouldn't last, that Rayna would get used to having Deacon inside her. But it had never gone away, and she had never gotten used to it. Every time with Deacon felt as good as the first time. It had been too long now since she'd had Deacon inside her and tonight, when he'd pushed his way inside, despite how ready they both were Rayna had the same fear she'd had at seventeen—that he simply wouldn't fit.

But, he did. Oh, did he fit. Rayna lifted her hips back into him, matching his thrusts. His fingers worked her nipples and she could feel the pressure in her belly spreading outwards rapidly.

"That's it," Deacon said, reading her body. He gripped her hip with one hand as the other reached down to her clit. His fingers brushed over the sensitive spot and Rayna cried out.

In a move she couldn't figure out, Deacon's voice was suddenly in her ear, his breath hot and his voice sexy.

"You're gonna come for me, aren't you?" He whispered, the gravel in his throat working its way into her blood, "You're gonna come all over my cock like a good little slut, aren't you?" Rayna moaned at his words; she'd always loved Deacon calling her names, "That's what you are, isn't it?" He asked, biting her ear roughly, "A little slut that's going to come all over my cock…" He thrust into her hard, "With another man's cock in your hot little mouth," Deacon's calloused fingers stroked her clit as she rocked back against him, "Come." He commanded, his voice raw from desire.

Deacon's dirty words had her halfway over the edge, and his fingers playing against her pushed her all the way over. She sucked Liam's cock into her mouth hard, then bucked her hips against Deacon. She came in waves, the force of it near blinding; as the pleasure washed over her, she cried out with a curse on her lips as her orgasm rocked her. She spasmed around Deacon, whose thrusts had become slow and deep, prolonging her orgasm as she rode back on him.

Rayna was still sucking Liam when the euphoria started to settle. She brought her hands up to caress his balls and Liam pulled roughly out of her mouth.

"Fuck," Liam groaned as he emptied himself on to her breasts.

Moments later, Deacon grabbed Rayna roughly by the hair, bringing his lips back to her ear and breathing into it. His tongue traced the shell of her ear and his pace quickened as he slammed into her.

"Even with another man's come all over your tits, don't you ever forget that _you're still mine_." He whispered harshly, punctuating each word with a hard thrust into her. His hands grasped her hips as he held her steady; his arm snaked around her stomach and he pulled her up against him, her smooth back against his hard chest, "Whose are you?" He asked.

"Yours," Rayna said, without even a hint of hesitation. She'd always known that to be true, "I'm _yours_." She reached her hand back and threaded her hand into his hair, "Come in me, Deacon."

"Mine," Deacon said, biting her neck. He pumped into her a few more times before he exploded into her, a grunt falling from his lips as his teeth bit down hard on the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Feeling him come inside of her sent Rayna over the edge again and she came unexpectedly; Deacon's hand flew to her clit and he stroked her until he felt her shudder against him and take in a sharp breath. He kissed her neck, his tongue darting out to soothe the teeth marks he'd made when he came.

Liam was on the couch watching them, a playful smirk on his face, "That," Liam said, languidly sliding his boxers up his legs and over his hips, "Was fucking _hot_."

…And that's when Rayna's dream ended. She woke up in a sweat, her panties damper than they had been in years. She glanced over at Teddy sleeping peacefully next to her. The guilt washed over her, but the lust building in her quickly overpowered the guilt and she felt her skin flush at the fake memory that felt shockingly real. She knew it hadn't happened, but every cell in her body was behaving as though it _had_. Looking at the clock, she sighed—she was late for the Edgehill anniversary party rehearsal.

Of _course_ she was going to have to see both Deacon and Liam less than an hour after having one of the hottest dreams she'd ever had—a dream that starred both of them saying and doing dirty, dirty things to her. She tried to block it out of her mind, but it was no use as the vivid images from the dream came back to her.

By the time she got to the rehearsal space, she was even more turned on than when she'd first woken up from the dream. Even a cold shower before she left couldn't drown the heat; and the drive to rehearsal certainly did her no favors, since she continually found herself replaying the dream in her head, recalling more and more of it as the road stretched out before her.

As she sat in rehearsal watching Deacon and Liam work their guitars, she couldn't help the flush that spread across her face. As she watched their expert fingers move along the strings, she couldn't help but think about the way their fingers had worked her in her wet dream. She watched their hands slide up and down the necks of their guitars and nearly moaned remembering how they'd both slid their hands over her body in her dream. After an hour, Rayna was so on edge that she stumbled over the lyrics of a song she'd been singing for the last decade and a half. She blurted out an expletive and shoved her hair back from her face at the mistake.

"Y'all, I need five." Rayna said, refusing to meet anyone's gaze as she ran off stage and out the back door into the parking lot.

She knew what she needed to do—she didn't kid herself anymore, she knew it was very much a _need_ at this point. Climbing in to the back of her Escalade, she'd never been more thankful for tinted windows in all her life.

Making sure the doors were locked, Rayna spread herself across the backseat, her back resting against the door. She allowed her hands to wander over her body, pinching and squeezing her nipples through her shirt before allowing her left hand to slip under the waistband of her jeans and into her panties where she found herself unbelievably wet.

Thinking about the dream she had, she started to work her fingers against herself, her long slender fingers moving in small circles around her clit, remembering the feel of Deacon's tongue against her in days gone by and the imaginary feeling of Liam's cock working her mouth while Deacon took her from behind.

Imagining Deacon whispering dirty things in her ear as he had in her dream had Rayna sliding two fingers into herself just as she came, Deacon's name bursting from her lips and soaking into the leather of the Escalade. She let out a languid moan and shuddered, the tension suddenly gone from her body. Withdrawing her fingers from herself, she buttoned her jeans and let out a laugh as a final tremor ran through her. She hadn't done anything like that in _years._ Unlocking the car, she righted herself, smoothed her hair, and opened the door. Walking around to the other side of the building, headed back into Soundcheck, she saw Deacon leaning up against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. She said a silent thank you to whomever made her Escalade virtually soundproof, since Deacon was certainly in hearing range and her moans of ecstasy hadn't been exactly quiet.

As she prepared to walk past him, she smiled, shaking her head a little in an attempt to clear the post-orgasmic bliss she felt. Her limbs felt easy as she approached him.

Eyeing her, Deacon pushed himself off the wall, stepping in front of her to block her path; the look of concern on his face as he watched her morphed into something else entirely.

"You okay, Ray?" He asked, his eyes trailing her up and down before his gaze settled back on her face. He raised his brow, "You ran out of there so fast…"

Rayna smiled, trying not to blush, "Yeah, I'm fine…" She trailed off, shrugging, "I just needed a little break."

"Yeah?" Deacon asked, amusement in his voice.

Rayna cleared her throat, "Yeah," She said, wishing she could get the breathy quality out of her voice.

Deacon nodded his head once, then cocked his head to the side, smiling at her curiously. His eyes swept over her face and he smirked, then a deep, sexy chuckle rumbled from him, "If you think I'd _ever_ forget how you look right after you come, you're outta your damn mind."

Rayna flushed, her arms flying up over her chest in a defensive gesture, "Excuse me?" She cursed the tremor in her voice. She dropped her hands, worried that the posture would make her look as guilty as she felt.

Deacon stepped closer to her, invading her personal space, "You're excused," He reached out and grabbed her left hand, smirking again when she tried to pull it back from his grasp. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled, then closed his eyes and smiled as he breathed out, "God," His voice was pure gravel, "Your scent."

Rayna cleared her throat, but she didn't move to pull her hand away—she was frozen in place by the way he was looking at her.

"What got you _so turned on_ that you had to leave rehearsal just to make yourself come?" He leaned in closer, "I haven't seen you that hot since the late 90s," He smirked at her, "And back then it was _me_ making you come in the back of a car during the middle of a rehearsal." He tilted his head, "So, what was it?"

"Nothing." Rayna said, her voice quiet.

Deacon slowly brought her fingers to his mouth and licked them, his tongue sliding over her index and middle finger; he never took his eyes from hers, "Doesn't taste like nothing."

Rayna felt her stomach tighten at his words, at the fact that he knew exactly what fingers she'd used. "Fine," Rayna sighed, narrowing her eyes at him, "A dream."

Deacon quirked his eyebrow, "What was the dream about?" He leaned in close to her, the smell of him—fresh cologne and something that had always been powerfully Deacon—invading her nostrils.

Suddenly, the stupid smirk on his face annoyed her. Deacon always thought he knew her so well; for the most part, he did. But not this time. He'd always taken delight in shocking her, but it was her turn this go. She dropped the sunglasses that had been perched atop her head back over her eyes, a slow grin spreading over her face.

She extricated her hand from his grasp, "A threesome." She said, simply, as though she had simply been commenting on the weather instead of telling her ex-lover about the kinkiest dream she'd ever had.

Rayna watched as shock settled over his features. He certainly hadn't been expecting _that_. He recovered quicker than she thought he might have and he leaned further into her personal space as his gaze darkened.

"Oh yeah?" His gaze slid languidly over her body, "Who was fucking you?"

Rayna smirked, "You," She said, enunciating the word, watching as the muscles in Deacon's face tightened, "And Liam," Rayna said, moving to walk past Deacon. The thought occurred to her that she was fantasizing about being fucked by two men and neither of them happened to be her husband, and that she ought to maybe feel at least a little bad about that. She quickly dismissed the thought—if fantasizing were cheating, she'd been an adulterer since her wedding night.

When Rayna was nearly past him, Deacon's hand snaked out and caught her wrist; with his other hand, he lifted Rayna's sunglasses up and set them on her head. His gaze burned through her as the lust dropped on to his face with full force. He wasn't hiding an ounce of it from her this time.

He laughed, the sound rumbly, low, and the sexiest thing Rayna had ever heard. It was slow as it moved through her body, traveling until it hit Rayna right between her legs, "Well," He said, drawing the syllable out, "Enjoy those dreams, darlin', because once I get my hands on you again," His thumb caressed her wrist as his gaze slid up her body, "And believe me, _I will_ ," He smirked, "I'll never let another man touch you." His thumb pressed into her wrist before he let her go, stepping back so she could walk past him.

She stared at him for a long moment before she shook her head and walked by him, not realizing until she was past him that she had been holding her breath. His words echoed in her ears: _I'll never let another man touch you_.

On anyone else, the possessiveness would have annoyed her or pissed her off. She would have railed against it just to prove that she _could_. But, with Deacon, there was some part of her that had always wanted to be _his_. To be possessed by him in every way imaginable—she spent so many sleepless nights denying that she still was.No, on Deacon, the possessiveness did to her just what it always had—it turned her the fuck on.

When Rayna walked back into rehearsal, she was wetter than when she'd left. And Deacon couldn't keep his eyes off her, couldn't keep his tongue from running across his lips to see if he could still taste her. His smirk told Rayna that he could.


	9. Chapter 9

So, a couple of months ago, a little birdie told me that more of this story was apparently in demand. Let this serve as a reminder that you should be careful what you wish for...

* * *

Deacon sighs as he pushes the door of the house open, the dim lights inside welcoming him home. It's taken him longer than he'd like to really think of it as his home instead of seeing it as merely something Rayna had without him, once upon a time. She wanted to sell it – but he hadn't let her, promised he'd _get there_ someday, and he had. Finally, he had.

He drops his bag down – the one he'd finally caved and bought after his old one finally, finally fell apart. _Change can be good_ , _Deacon_ , Rayna had told him, holding up bags to him in some rundown shop off Broadway – he hates the new bag, if he's honest, hates the smell of the new leather, but _god_ he loves her. He sets the bag by the door, closing and locking the door behind him. He tosses his keys on the entry table and then steps into the living room, inhaling as he walks, the warm familiar scent of his favorite cookies invading his olfactory senses just as the quiet sounds of an old melancholy jazz song fall into his ear.

He steps further into the house, smiling when the kitchen comes into view. Rayna stands near the oven, scooping cookies onto a cooling rack on the stove, her hips lightly swaying to the music as she hums along, her voice sweet as it echoes through the small space. She's wearing an apron, tied in a knot at her back over a flowy black dress that lands mid-calf, and her hair falls in soft waves, ending at her mid-back. She'd cut it a time or two in the years he's known her, but she's always grown it back out; she's _her_ with her hair like this, though god he loves that woman in any form he's ever seen her. Still, soft waves like this are his favorite, and she keeps it like this for him whenever she can: _I like to make you happy, babe_ , she'd told him. And she does – _oh_ , how she does.

The happiness hits him all at once as he sees her, and for the thousandth time in as many days, he wonders just how in the hell he ever got so damn lucky, even as he feels the desire at seeing her course rapidly through his veins. She's just back from a sold-out tour, working non-stop same as him, and she was so exhausted when she arrived that they haven't had time to have a proper welcome home fuck. He's been dying for her – _aching_ for her for weeks, his hand and her voice not quite _enough_ to satisfy his intense desire for all things Rayna.

Deacon sneaks up behind Rayna quietly, and then snakes his hands around her waist, his fingers grazing lightly over her hipbones. She gasps a little in surprise before she leans her warm body into his, her back pressing against his chest. He leans his head down and nuzzles her neck, planting a little kiss against her pulse point. Rayna tilts her head to the side, allowing him better access to her throat and he places an open-mouthed kiss to the skin of her neck, sucking lightly as she sighs contentedly, her head falling back against his shoulder. He sucks harder, and her sigh turns into a moan, and _god_ he's never been so thankful that the girls are staying with their friends for the weekend.

"Hi, baby," he whispers, bringing his mouth to her ear and speaking inside of it. He feels a light shiver run through her body and he smiles against her ear, chuckling a bit. Rayna has always loved his voice in her ear, "Did you have a good day?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly, _just_ the way she likes it.

Rayna bites her lip, "Mm," she nods, "Better now that you're here, though." She spins in his arms and presses her lips to his in a quick kiss, "I missed you," she whispers against his lips before she slips her tongue into his mouth, her fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingernails tickling his skin.

Deacon slides his hands up her sides until he's buried them in her thick hair, his fingers dancing tantalizingly along her scalp. He groans as she deepens the kiss, arching into him. She tastes like gingerbread and something that has always tasted to him distinctly like Rayna – he could never name it, but he knows there's nothing in this world quite like it, _loves_ nothing in this world quite like it.

She pulls away from him, giving him one last kiss as her eyes, so filled with warmth and _love_ (and Deacon will never get over the fact that it's for _him, still, again_ – and he deserves it this time), search his face.

"How'd I get so damn lucky?" Deacon asks, his thumb caressing her cheekbone, her skin soft under the pad of his finger.

Rayna laughs, "You asked."

Deacon laughs then, remembering the night he proposed – not for the first time, but for the last. He'd been so nervous standing there, so worried that he didn't deserve her – not after the hell he'd put her through, not after everything. But dropping down on his knee the way he did was the best thing he'd done with his life; marrying Rayna is the best thing he's done with his life.

Deacon grins, "Yes, I did." He kisses her forehead gently, "I'd ask you a thousand times over again, too." He sits back on a barstool at the kitchen counter, still facing her. He lets out a heavy sigh, relieved to be home, but the day still weighing on him a bit heavily.

"How was it?" Rayna asks, concern evident in her voice.

Deacon leans against the bar, the edge of the counter pressing into his back. "It was good," he nods his head, "Good. But when I decided to do this entire album – write, produce, play, _sing_ , I guess somewhere along the line I didn't realize I'd have to make so many damn decisions." He sighs again, running a hand through his hair.

Rayna steps toward him, her abdomen brushing against his knees. She reaches her hand up, her palm smoothing over his cheek, "You look exhausted, babe."

Deacon sighs again, leaning into her touch. Her palm is soft and warm against his cheek and he nestles into it, breathing in deeply. He can smell her scent, the one that envelops him in their bed at night even when she's on tour, taking the world by storm. It comforts him when she's gone, lulls him to sleep, reminds him that she will _always_ come back to him. She smells like soap and something darker than that, heady and intoxicating, with light notes of gardenia cutting through – it comforts him now. He presses a kiss to her palm, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I am, baby." He opens his eyes and gives her a weary smile, "I _am_."

Rayna reaches up and smooths her thumbs over his brow bone, "I'm sorry," she whispers quietly, "Worth it?"

He shrugs, "I guess we'll see when it's released." He looks at the stove, at the perfectly round gingerbread cookies, "What's all this?"

Rayna laughs, stepping away from him, "I meant to cook for you, but I imagined things would run late," she picks a cookie up off of the cooling rack, "So, cookies." She explains, holding one out to him, poised between her thumb and index finger.

Deacon leans forward and takes the small cookie into his mouth. His tongue darts out and grazes across Rayna's index finger and he does not miss the way her eyes latch on to his tongue, her gaze darkening. He bites into the cookie once it's safely inside his mouth and the flavor explodes across his tongue. The ginger is sharp and bright as the cookie melts on his tongue. He moans a bit as he finishes chewing.

"My _favorite_ type of cookie, no less," he leans over and grabs another cookie, popping it into his mouth. "You know," he speaks around the cookie before chewing and swallowing again. He doesn't continue, just looks at Rayna as she moves to put the baking sheet in the sink. When she turns to look at him expectantly, he smirks, dropping his voice low, "These cookies, they're my _second_ favorite thing to eat in the world."

Rayna's eyes widen a bit, and her nostrils flare, "Deacon!" She shakes her head.

Deacon slowly licks the cookie crumbs off his fingers, his eyes never leaving Rayna's, "Any guesses as to what my first favorite is, Rayna?"

Deacon slides off the barstool and crosses the kitchen to stand in front of Rayna. He tucks her hair behind her ear and leans forward, his tongue dancing along the shell of her ear, "Do you have any idea what my favorite thing to eat is?" He nips at her ear, and she shudders. He chuckles lowly in her ear, watching as her skin prickles, "Say it, Rayna." He tugs on her ear with his teeth, "I want to hear you say it."

"Me?" she asks, her voice breathy with desire; she's slightly panting now, and the sight sends a wave of arousal through Deacon's body.

"Yes," he confirms, nodding, "Which _part_ of you, Rayna?" his voice is still in her ear, his hands on her forearms, and he can feel the gooseflesh pucker her skin again.

Rayna pulls back to look at him, her eyes hooded, "My cunt?" she asks, and Deacon feels her word directly in his groin. There is something so inherently _sexy_ about hearing Rayna – _his_ Rayna – use words like that; he's always loved when she talks dirty. Her voice is pure sex, anyway, but to hear her talk like _that_ does unholy things to him.

Deacon nods in the affirmative, leaning in to her lips, kissing her, his tongue darting in her mouth, "Yes. I love the taste of you, Rayna, the taste of your cunt; my favorite thing in the world." He speaks against her lips and he's just about to kiss her again when the kettle goes off, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

Rayna pulls back from him at the sound, her eyes still a little dazed, "Tea?"

Deacon laughs, stepping back so she can move closer to the kettle. He slides back up on the barstool and watches as she turns the kettle off, stands on her tiptoes and removes two mismatched teacups, one chipped, and both a little worse for the wear from the top cupboard. Rayna refuses to get rid of them, though, since they're the cups they drank from the night, so many years ago now, when Rayna got her first record deal. And even though it was technically Rayna's victory, it was one of the happiest nights of Deacon's life, honestly – she'd given him so much since the day they met, and she still does. She loves him with a fierceness and completeness he'd never before known. She loves him in spite of everything that's happened to her, everything he's done _to_ her, his Rayna.

As he watches her prepare the tea, moving around the kitchen, jazz music still playing softly in the background, Deacon can't help but think about how beautiful she is. His eyes follow the lines of her waist, tracing over the curves he used to dream about even before he felt them under his palms; the curves he used to dream about long after he finally did. He watches her delicate tiny hands place cookies on a small saucer, and he's struck by the notion that he's never seen anyone so damn _sexy_ in all of his life. Rayna Jaymes moving around the kitchen in their shared house is sexier than any half-naked woman Deacon has ever seen, and what a gift she is – what a gift she gives him.

Suddenly, though, he realizes there's something _else_ he wants from her tonight. He's been run absolutely ragged with this album – everyone looking to him for answers, looking to him to take charge and make decisions. He wants – he _needs_ – the exact opposite of that tonight.

He clears his throat nervously, "Rayna?" He starts, and her eyes snap to his, "Can I ask you…something?" He can hear the trepidation in his own voice. It's been a long time since they've played like this.

Rayna freezes at his tone, setting the saucer holding the cookies down on the counter. She smooths her hands over the front of her apron before jamming her hands in the front pockets. Deacon can see the apprehension in her eyes as she looks at him and he curses himself.

He rushes to assure her, "No, it's nothing bad, baby." He smiles and watches as the tension eases out of her frame, "At least, I don't think it is…" she tilts her head curiously at him, "I… Can I ask you to do something for me?" his voice is quiet even to his own ears.

Rayna looks at him, concern etched in her brow, "Of course you can, Deacon. You know you can ask me anything, babe."

Deacon takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the nerves that settle in his stomach. _This is Rayna_ , he reminds himself. He trusts her implicitly, loves her even more than that, "It's just been a rough couple of days – everyone looking for me to give them answers, make decisions. So _many_ decisions." He explains, "So _damned_ exhausting," She raises her brows at him, patiently waiting for him to continue, "So… I was wondering… if you could, if you would… take control." He clears his throat again, "Tonight."

Rayna stares at him, her brow furrowed in thought, "What are you asking me, Deacon?" she queries, her voice quiet, pensive.

Deacon watches her, trying to suss out how she feels about it, certain she's gotten the picture, but she's giving nothing away.

"I want you to… control me." He says, and just verbalizing it sends a rush of adrenaline through his body.

Her eyes darken a bit, but otherwise she doesn't react, "What do you _want_ , Deacon?"

She's going to make him say it. The thought sends a little thrill through him. They'd dabbled in power play here and there, mostly with him in control, but it had been awhile; watching her doing something as inane as make tea tonight, though, had suddenly given way to a very serious and intense desire for her to control him.

He looks at her, at her still body standing in front of him, and he knows she'll give it to him, what he wants, if he asks.

He scrubs his hand down his face, "I don't want to _think_ tonight, Rayna. I want to turn my mind off and just _feel_. I want you to tell me what to do," he trails off, looking at her face – not enough, he can tell, but _almost_ , "I want you to make me _beg_ ," an involuntary shiver shoots through him, and when he speaks next his voice is so gravelly with desire he nearly doesn't recognize it, "I want you to _use me for your pleasure_ , Rayna. However you want."

A slow smirk curls her lips, and Deacon can read the desire that blooms across her face, "I thought you'd never ask, Deacon," Her voice sounds thick and honeyed, and he nearly groans at the sound of it; she bites her lip, "You're sure?"

Deacon nods. If he hadn't been, he damn sure would be now, " _So_ damn sure."

Rayna chews on her lip, "Safe word?"

Deacon smirks, "Bowling?"

She rolls her eyes, "You're ridiculous," she chews on her lip again, and Deacon wants to take it between his own teeth, "Anything you _don't_ want to do?"

Deacon swallows thickly – he hadn't really thought about it, in all his fantasies of Rayna taking control, he hadn't thought of anything that would be off limits. "No," he shakes his head, "I trust you."

She smiles at that, and he can see the happiness in her eyes, "And you've got a safe word." She reaches behind her and unties her apron, pulling it over her head and placing it on a hook next to the refrigerator.

Deacon chuckles, "And I've got a safe word."

His eyes take in the expanse of her chest, the enticing cleavage displayed by the low-cut dress she's wearing. She has _fantastic_ breasts, and even just the sight of them causes arousal to thrum through his blood.

Rayna, noticing his gaze, steps forward and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, "Before tea, or after tea?" She asks, amusement in her voice.

"Screw the damn tea," Deacon says, his arms snaking out to wrap around her waist, aiming to pull her close to him.

Her hands grasp his forearms, her small hands wrapping tightly around him as she pulls his hands from her waist. He looks at her for a moment, confused, before he sees a flash of desire cloud her face.

"Don't touch me again without permission, Deacon." she orders, sternly.

He'd never been a man who particularly cared for his name, but the way she said it just now like it's a dirty secret only the two of them share, makes him want to change his mind. For her.

"Understand?" She asks archly.

Deacon nods, his mouth too dry to speak.

"Use your words, Deacon."

He clears his throat, "Yes."

"Good," she praises, her eyes dark and wilder than he's ever seen them before – _oh, Rayna_ likes _this role_. "Bedroom." she commands, "Now." When he hesitates, unsure if he should lead or follow, she tuts at him, "Now," she reiterates, "I won't ask a third time."

Deacon springs into action, scrambling off the barstool, unable to contain the grin that spreads across his face as he goes. He breezes past Rayna, walking through the living room and up the stairs, his pace slow and steady, the anticipation of whatever is to come shooting little jolts of electricity through his body. When he enters the bedroom, he stands by the corner of the bed, turning around to watch Rayna enter.

"I love watching your ass, love watching you walk," she steps into the room and closes the door behind her, even though they're alone in the house tonight. Her eyes skate over his body, stopping for a moment at the bulge in his pants, and she smirks, "I actually like watching you do a lot of things." She leans against the door, still watching him, "Strip." She commands, her voice carrying through the air and settling a deeper pang of arousal low in his stomach.

Deacon toes off his shoes, and then brings his hand up to his shirt, unbuttoning the collar and slowly working on the buttons one by one, his eyes never leaving Rayna's. When it's unbuttoned all the way, he shrugs it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He sees Rayna's eyes graze his chest, and he sees the hunger there. His hands move to his jeans, and he unbuttons them, unzips the fly, and pushes them over his hips, stepping out of them when they pool around his feet. He reaches down and peels his socks off one by one, then hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs, his erection tenting the front.

Rayna's eyes drop down, and she licks her lips – he bites his lip to keep a groan from escaping as he pushes his boxer briefs down over his hips, letting them fall to the ground and stepping out of them as his cock springs free.

He glances down at himself, he is so hard it _hurts_ and they've only just begun. He's sure now he's never been so damn hard in his life. Rayna is watching him, still, her eyes on his erection, her eyes cloudy with lust.

"Touch yourself." she orders, "But don't come, Deacon."

Deacon does as she says, wraps his hand around the base of his cock, then slides his hand up, circling the tip just the way he likes before bringing his hand back down to his base. He repeats the action, his eyes locked on hers, but this time he eases off the pressure just a bit, has to if he's to obey her orders – and he has every intention of obeying her orders.

"Good." She praises, and Deacon feels his cock twitch in his own hand. "What do you think about when you do that?"

"You." He confesses, his eyes sliding closed, "Always you."

"Eyes open, Deacon." His eyes fly open, "Eyes on me when you tell me what you jack off to."

He groans, his right hand speeding up without his own permission. He bites his lip and slows his pace again, "You."

"Be specific." Rayna instructs, and _god her voice could make him come all over his hand right this second if he's not careful_.

Rayna likes when he talks, he knows, likes to hear him say dirty things to her, and he loves that this little trait of hers – _kink_ as it were – apparently carries over into their little role-play tonight.

"Licking you," Deacon answers, honestly. It's his favorite fantasy about Rayna, his go-to. He loves her down on her knees in front of him, riding him, on all fours in front of him, but _licking her_ has always been his favorite thing. He loves feeling her under his tongue, and on nights when he's alone, it doesn't take long for him to come in his own hand imagining his face between her thighs.

"Is _that_ what you want tonight, Deacon?" She asks, pushing herself up from the door, "Do you want me to tie you to that big bed of ours and sit on your face?" She's in front of him now, and he's holding his breath, his hand stilled on his cock; she drops her gaze to his hand, "Did I say you could stop?" His hand moves again slowly over himself, "Is that what you want? Me to ride your face until I come? Hmm? Do you want me to _make_ you use your tongue on me, grind myself against that face of yours?" She tilts her head to the side, considering him, "Do you want me to _fuck your face_?"

" _Ohsweetchristyes_ ," Deacon exhales, the images she's calling to mind playing rapid-fire in his mind's eye. He loves when she talks to him, too, how could he _not_ when her voice sounds the way that it does?

"You'll have to earn it, and then _ask_." Rayna whispers, "You know how to ask, don't you, Deacon?" Deacon nods, "Good," She smirks at him, "Undress me."

Deacon stops touching himself, bringing his hand up to the side zip of her dress, easing it down. He pushes the dress from her shoulders and it pools at her already bare feet. She steps out of the pool of fabric and Deacon stares at her for a moment, taking in her mauvey-pink lace bra and matching panties. He reaches out and unsnaps her bra, his eyes locked on her breasts as she shrugs it down her arms and drops it on the floor. His thumbs hook into her panties and he pushes those over her hips and down her thighs, the back of his fingers skirting along her soft skin. She steps out of her panties and away from him, and his fingers nearly burn from where he touched her.

His eyes roam her body, her golden skin glowing in the dim light of their bedroom. God, he loves looking at her – and he loves how much she let him look. The first time they'd made love after over a decade apart, he'd expected to have to convince her to leave the light on, to convince her that he wanted to see every inch of her, but she didn't even try to turn it off. She lay on the bed, naked, watching as his eyes devoured every part of her body, lingering on his very favorite parts. She'd told him days later that the look in his eyes, dark and lustful, had made her feel so beautiful and wanted, so safe and loved, and she hadn't felt all of those things together in nearly a decade.

It's how he's looking at her now, he knows, and he can see the flash of recognition in her eyes.

"Touch yourself," she whispers again, less commanding, more reverent, but still hot as hell.

He obeys, his hand reaching down to stroke his length as he looks at her, his eyes raking over every inch of her body. Her nipples pucker in the cool air of their bedroom, and he longs to feel one between his lips, to coat one with his tongue, to tug one with his teeth.

As though she can read his thoughts, she breathes out, "Go on."

Deacon leans forward, taking a nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it before he tugs on it gently with his teeth. The noise she makes in the back of her throat as he bites down makes his cock twitch, and he groans around her nipple as his hand circles his tip, spreading his precum over his head with his thumb. It feels too good, it all feels too good and he picks up his pace, stroking himself a bit more rapidly and moaning around her breast in his mouth before Rayna's hand darts out, catching him by his wrist.

"What did I say, Deacon?" She admonishes, "Do you want to know what happens to naughty boys who break the rules?" She asks.

You know, he kind of does. But there will be time for all of that – right now, he doesn't want this to be over quite so soon. He wants her to make good on her promise, wants her to make him beg.

As if reading his thoughts again, Rayna tugs on his wrist, his hand falling from his cock, "You've got plenty of time to find that out, don't you?" She asks, bringing his hand to her mouth. She brings his thumb to her lips and slips her tongue out, tracing it over his flesh before she draws his thumb in, sucking lightly as she moans. She releases his thumb with a pop, then licks her lips, "I love the way you taste," she whispers, her voice quiet and serious. "On the bed."

Deacon feels the adrenaline rushing through him again as he follows her orders, laying on the bed and watching the curve of her ass as she walks to their closet, emerging with two long strips of fabric.

"Arms out," she says, and he obeys, spreading his arms out and up toward the corners of the headboard. Rayna loops one of the fabric pieces around his right wrist, then ties the other end of the fabric securely to the headboard before she moves to secure his other hand. When she's satisfied, she looks at him, "Okay?" She asks, her tone gentle.

Deacon smiles, and nods, "Very okay."

She nods once, then kneels on the edge of the bed, her fingers creeping down her body until he watches them slide between her legs, her head falling back as her fingers slide through her own wetness. "Oh, I'm so wet, Deacon – watching you touch yourself made me so wet. It always does." She looks at his erection, straining toward the ceiling, "I could just slide right down over your cock right now, take you inside me so easily." Deacon watches as she dips a finger into herself, "But I don't think that's what you want right now, is it? What do you want, Deacon?" She echoes her earlier question, and Deacon groans, watching her fingers work against herself.

He can't find any damn words; she's left him speechless.

"Oh," she says, feigning disappointment, "If you can't ask for what you want like a good boy, maybe I should just go finish this in the other room? Or maybe I should finish here, then leave you just as you are until I've decided how I'd like to use you?"

"God, _no_ ," Deacon pleads, though the thought of Rayna leaving him tied up and wanting for however long she saw fit was unexpectedly arousing to him, that's not what he wants. Not tonight.

"Then _ask_ for what you want, Deacon," her voice is stern, and her fingers slide in and out of herself. He watches them slip in and out, glistening in the light, mesmerized by the repeated action, and he groans.

"I want to taste you," his voice is gruff, his cock already aching for release.

Rayna smirks, drawing her fingers out of herself. She brings them to Deacon's face, and he can _smell_ her, the scent so lovely and arousing, and he leans his head up to catch her fingers in his mouth.

"Ah, ah," she says, pulling her fingers away from his mouth so that they're just out of his reach, "What do you _say,_ Deacon?"

" _Please_ ," he groans, his head falling back to the pillow, desperate.

"Please what?"

"Please let me _taste you_ , Rayna, _please_." Deacon pleads, his voice harsh and breathy. He's begging, and he doesn't care. His cock is throbbing, and he doesn't care, he only cares that he tastes her _now_.

"That's a good boy," Rayna says, thrusting her three fingers forward and into his mouth.

His tongue sweeps over her fingers, and her flavor bursts across his tongue, tangy and tart, and he realizes that three months is too long to go without tasting her on his tongue; hell, a damn _day_ is too long. He licks her fingers clean, his tongue cleaning every trace of her from her fingers as he licks eagerly, moaning as the taste of her begins to fade. She pulls her fingers from his mouth, smirking as he runs his tongue across his lips chasing her taste.

"So eager," she purrs, her hand finding its way back between her thighs, "I like that," she works her fingers inside herself again, and Deacon watches as her thumb teases her clit, a moan falling from her lips as she works her fingers in and out of herself. She brings herself to the edge of orgasm, but stops herself, dropping her gaze back down to him, looking at him innocently.

"Was there something else that you wanted?" She moves her fingers in and out of herself again, this time languidly before she withdraws her fingers and brings them up to her own lips, her eyes locked on Deacon's as she slides her fingers slowly into her mouth.

" _Christ,_ Rayna," he pulls at his restraints, desperate to get his hands on her, wanting nothing more than to hold her down on the bed and shove his head between her thighs, but he can't move. He's at her mercy, and god if it's not right where he wants to be. "Let me… lick you," his eyes dart down between her legs, and he licks his lips, his mouth watering at the sight.

"Is that what you want, Deacon?" She asks, and his name feels somehow dangerous as it slides off her tongue. "How?" She blinks at him, "You're all tied up."

"Sit on my face, Rayna," he groans, " _Please_ sit on my face."

"Oh, come on, Deacon," she chastises, "You can do better than that."

Her voice – her _fucking_ voice kicks his desire into overdrive, and suddenly he doesn't damn well _care_ , he will beg her a thousand times, a thousand different ways if she will just sit on his _fucking_ face and use his tongue.

"Please sit on my face, Rayna," he begs, "Please sit on my face and use my tongue however you like – _god_ , let me taste you, please – let me lick your _cunt,_ Rayna." His cock is throbbing, and he closes his eyes. He doesn't even know what he's saying, anything to get her to agree.

"You're so pretty when you beg, Deacon," she observes, "Do you think you deserve it?" She asks, feigning disinterest, "Do you deserve my cunt on your face?"

Her words go straight to his cock, " _Fucking hell, yes_ ," he nods, "Give me your cunt, Rayna, _fucking please_."

She leans forward, her breasts brushing against his bare chest, her breath on his lips, "I think you're right, Deacon – you _do_ deserve my cunt; such a good boy, begging me like that." She presses her lips to his and slides her tongue in his mouth, just for a moment, but it's enough – he can taste her on her own tongue and it sends a shiver through his body as he moans into her mouth before she pulls away.

"I wonder," she sits up, inching closer to his head on the bed, "Can you come from this, Deacon?" She asks, "Can you come just from licking me?" Deacon closes his eyes and groans; he feels like he could damn well come now, just from her _talking_ about it, "I hope so," she says, throwing one knee over his chest so she's straddling him. She's so close to him, he can smell her – he could lift his head up and lick her, but he doesn't, too scared that if he does she'll not let him lick her at all, and he _needs_ this, "Because it's the only chance you'll get." Her voice is stern and Deacon groans at her tone, "And if you can, don't you _dare_ come until I do, Deacon." She looks down at him and Deacon nods his assent, "Good. Are you ready?" She asks, her voice gentle. "Ready for me to fuck your face?"

" _God, yes_."

She rises up on her knees, and then lowers herself over his face. The minute she's within reach, Deacon licks at her greedily, his tongue sweeping along her folds, licking her wetness. His tongue slips inside her and he hears her moan above him. He keeps his eyes trained on her face, watching her pleasure as it ripples across her face. She grinds herself against him, her hands reaching down into his hair, clutching at the strands almost painfully. It feels fucking amazing – everything about this feels fucking amazing, and he moans against her, his nose digging into her clit. He breathes her in, her scent enveloping him and he doesn't care if he never breathes again, because this is fucking enough.

"That's it," Rayna moans, as his tongue searches inside her, her flavor filling his mouth as she writhes against him.

She is taking what she needs from him, and as Deacon watches her face contort in pleasure, he's never seen anything so fucking sexy in his life. _His_ Rayna, writhing above him after making him _beg_ to lick her, after making him beg for her to fuck his face – he can feel his cock swell at the thought, and the realization that yes, he actually _can_ come from this and _will_ spurs him on. He moves his tongue with more fervor, burying his face in Rayna's cunt even as she grinds down on him.

His face is wet, her scent all he can smell, and when her fingers tighten in his hair and she grinds fervently down on his face, rocking over and over again as she rides his tongue, he knows she's painfully close to release.

He spurs her on, making sounds of approval and encouragement at the back of his throat, and when he sees her throw her head back and hears her moan long and hard, his name spilling from her lips as she holds his head in place and rocks greedily against his mouth, Deacon feels his own orgasm crest over him, feels warmth spread through his body and he cries out, the sound muffled by Rayna's cunt still pulsing around his tongue.

As he shivers, the last aftershocks of his rather powerful orgasm dissipating, he feels his cock softening, and he feels momentarily stunned. Rayna pulls slightly away from him, and he laps at her gently, his tongue reverent against her flesh. The air comes into his lungs unobstructed now, but he already misses the way she surrounded him just seconds before.

"Wow," he breathes out, awestruck.

Rayna looks suddenly bashful, her gaze flicking down to him as she leans back on shaky legs, "Good wow?"

Deacon chuckles, his tongue darting out to lick the traces of her from his lips, "See for yourself, baby," he lifts his head a bit, indicating his now soft cock.

Rayna moves herself from his chest, then looks down at Deacon's cock. His view now unobstructed, he follows her gaze, then looks at her, watching her take in the sight.

She bites her lip, "Wow," she leans down and kisses him; softly, gently, and Deacon smiles against her mouth, "Take it you liked that?"

Deacon chuckles again, "Obviously," Rayna reaches up and unties his wrists from the headboard one after the other, and then Deacon watches as she slowly crawls down the bed, "What are you doing?" He asks, as her head gets closer and closer to his cock.

She grins at him wickedly, "Cleaning you up," she states, matter-of-factly, before dipping her head and running her tongue along his length, cleaning up the mess from his orgasm. Her tongue is wet and warm, and Deacon sighs, his hands slipping into her curls as she laves him, making sure she doesn't leave a single trace of his come behind.

When she's done licking him clean, she crawls back up the bed, a dirty smirk on her face, and Deacon grins at her.

"Jesus Christ, Rayna, you're a fucking treasure."

Rayna laughs, burying her head in his chest, her hair tickling the bottom of his chin. She pulls his arm around her, and her fingers dance across his chest, her fingernails lightly scratching little patterns into his skin.

"I'm glad you think so, babe," she whispers, her breath hot on his skin.

"I _know_ so, Rayna," he confirms, his fingers tugging lightly on a strand of her hair.

The silence stretches between them, and Deacon feels sated and happy, and she didn't even damn well touch him. She's black magic, this woman in his arms, everything he never believed in but hoped was real. She's a fucking _revelation_.

"Go on tour with me." The words slip out into the air, and he hadn't known he was going to say them, but they feel right between them, leave a sweet taste in his mouth, a flavor similar to the one she leaves behind on his tongue.

Rayna laughs, the sound bright and brilliant – how he _loves_ that laugh, but he isn't joking, and she hasn't realized it yet.

She taps his chest with her index finger, "I thought _I_ was the one giving the directives tonight." At his silence, she looks up at him, her eyes casting over his face; she arches a brow at him, "Deacon, you're – you're not _serious_?" Her tone is incredulous. "Babe, we've talked about this."

And she's right – he knows she's right. They _have_ talked about this, at length. She doesn't want to overshadow any success he has – doesn't want him to feel like any less of the solo artist he rightfully is and deserves to be. They'd spent so many years touring and traveling together, and she doesn't want him to think he _needs_ her, at least not in that way.

"I know," Deacon whispers, "But, _Jesus,_ Rayna, I don't care that I _can_ do it without you, – " he sighs, "It's that I don't _want to_. Haven't wanted to since the day I met you."

She sits up a bit at that, her eyes shining as she leans in and presses a kiss to his temple, "I'll go anywhere in the world with you, and you know that. But… I thought that we agreed you'd do this one alone," At his silence, she smiles, "I love you, Deacon."

"I love you, too. So damn much. So…"

Rayna sighs, "How much of this has to do with the fact that you just came and are in a post-orgasmic haze?"

"I just came without you even touching me, Rayna, and surprisingly it has, very, very little to do with it." Deacon sighs, "Look, I'll go regardless when I launch the album– I just – I _want_ you. Lord knows I spent enough time without you. And I want you, baby, however I can get you." He smirks, "Especially if it's writhing on my face while you call out my name." He reaches out and taps her nose, "You're good at that, you know," he says, grinning, "Giving directives."

Rayna watches him quietly, her face unreadable, and she licks her lips. Deacon sees her breaths come quicker, and he looks at her curiously. He watches emotions play over her face, each one coming and going too quickly for him to name them.

Finally, she inhales sharply, and her tone is stern, just like it had been earlier, "Ask me again."

His mouth drops open in surprise, "What?"

Her voice softens, a slow smile spreading across her face, "Ask me again, babe."

Deacon feels his heart quicken in his chest, feels his entire body go cold then hot with adrenaline, "Go on tour with me?"

He braces himself for the inevitable no, but it doesn't come.

"Yes," Falls from her lips slow like molasses, " _Yes_ , babe." Rayna leans down and kisses him, her palm cupping the side of his face.

 _Yes_.

Deacon kisses Rayna back, his tongue slipping into her mouth and she sighs, melting into him.

This woman is black magic, he knows, a strange kind of voodoo and he'll gladly spend the rest of his life under her damn spells.


End file.
